A Very Sirius Christmas Carol
by Corvis Greenleaf
Summary: A parody of an old classic. Sirius must face the ghosts of the past in order to face his future. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Sirius sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He was alone and for that he was grateful. He was sick of Remus and his endless justifications for why he should sit here instead of going out, and Tonks flashing him sympathetic looks. Then there was Molly and her constant parade of food in front of him; she was convinced that the best way to lift his heart was with food. He soon found himself avoiding the kitchen when he smelled her cooking something up it there. Arthur wasn't much better. He was so jovial around this time of year, and Sirius never did understand how he could keep such a jolly demeanor. Christmas no doubt strained his vault this time of year, and Molly feverently worked on sweaters around the clock. He was slowly going mad listening to the needles she jinxed to knit be themselves in the corner.

Dumbledore was the worst. He was in a great mood all the time, but this time of year it was intensified greatly. When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, Sirius could smell the fresh cut pine trees on him, and the smell of ginger wafted off of him. It brought back memories of Christmas's in the past, ones whiled away at Hogwarts, plotting with his friends. As much as he tried to get rid of them, they were there, something would trigger his memory and it would start like an old machine, throwing him images that only served to make his heart just a little colder and harder.

Some were funny, like the time they had slipped a poinsettia potion into Peter's pumpkin juice. They were aiming to turn his skin a brilliant red, but having obtained a muggle poinsettia on accident, the prank had gone horribly wrong. But the look on Peter's face as he had to ask Madame Pomfrey for a quick and much needed Stool Stopper potion was priceless.

Others made him nostalgic; there was an image of Lilly and James's first kiss. No one else knew that he had seen it; he was on his way to the kitchens and ducked aside as he spotted them. As James pointed to the mistletoe, Sirius wanted to laugh at him so badly, but there was magic in the moment that Lily looked at James. Sirius was awestruck and revenant as he watched his best mate plant a kiss on her scarlet lips. Time stood still as James passed a hallmark in a wizard's life. Sirius never told anyone of that memory, Sirius kept it guarded as a testament to the special relationship that Lily and James shared.

Some memories confused him, he felt as though they were foreshadows of what was to come. There was the Christmas party in the Gryffindor Common Room and the marauders had exchanged their gifts to each other. Boys never knew the proper gift to give, and they were mostly gags and sweets. Peter had passed a small box to Sirius and he lad laughed when he opened it. Peter had always had a deranged sense of humor, despite the awkward façade he presented. Sirius opened the box and found a single cherry cordial chocolate finger, purchased at a joke shop. Peter had completed the gag by making one of his own fingers invisible for the night. They had all shared a hearty laugh over it, but if only they could have seen what was to come! Sirius was disgusted by it now.

Sirius paced from room to room, anger over the holiday brewing in him. It just wasn't fair. He desperately wanted for this to be a happy time again, but so much weighed on his mind that he simply couldn't find it in himself to join the festivities. When he did make the effort, it was strained and shallow. Harry seemed to notice his reservations and tried to goad him into happiness, but this time of the year meant nothing but despair for Sirius.

Arthur found him contemplating the tapestry and quietly approached him. Sirius was startled by his appearance and turned on his friend harshly. Arthur had looked abashed for a moment and tentatively asked him if he wanted to join them at the table for a family meal. Sirius declined, he felt his bitterness creeping up on him, but instead of the words escaping as regretful, they came out tinged with anger. Arthur silently left the room and Sirius made his way to his room. A good sleep would clear these cobwebs from his mind; he knew that that was the thing he needed. A good lie in would do him some good.

He walked into his room and shut the door. He latched it, not wanting to be disturbed for the night. As he turned and gazed at the bed he was startled to see a man seated at the end of it, boring his pale eyes into Sirius's. The man had shaggy hair and a gaunt face and was almost the image of Sirius.

"Regulus! But you're dead." Sirius was not happy to see the image of his dead brother perched on the edge of his bed. Maybe the stress of the holidays was getting to him.

"I have warnings for you, brother. Things that you need to hear. I have to teach you something." Regulus's voice was a haunted rasp of what it used to be.

"What is there that you could possible teach me? We went separate ways, brother." Sirius paused after spitting out the last word. "Please leave. I have nothing to discuss with you." Sirius pulled his robes off and changed into his nightclothes. When he turned, Regulus was at his heels, standing so close that Sirius could smell the grave dust sifting off him.

"Do not make the same mistakes that I have, brother. Do not let your bitterness dictate your actions. If you are intent upon ignoring me, if you will not hear what I have to say to you, I understand. I am damned to tell you these things, relive all of my most shameful moments for all of eternity, do not let your path meander in the wake of mine. Three will come to you this night and make you aware of the seriousness of the situation you have fallen into." With that, Regulus vanished, and nothing was in his place, save for a small trace of dirt.

Sirius shook his head. He blamed the vision on his stubborn refusal of Molly's food, his weariness and his foul mood for the last few days. Surely the visage of his brother had simply been his subconscious mind telling him to cheer up. What a dry sense of humor his mind had to send a corpse of his brother with the message. He closed his eyes and a wave of fitful sleep engulfed him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was still dark when Sirius opened his eyes. He walked to the window where he could still see snow swirling about and sighed. There was no sleep to come to him tonight. He watched as the ebony clock in the corner ticked the minutes past.

He ambled back to his bed and pulled his covers around him tight to stave off the chill that crept into his room as the hours passed. Muffled by the snow, he heard the lonely whistle of a train undulating into the night. He shivered and pulled the sheets even closer.

It was now the hour of one, and nothing yet had happened. Sirius started to laugh at his own foolishness and was about to make his way to the kitchen. Surely a bit of Molly's famous pumpkin roll would settle his stomach and chase away these visions he was having. Before he could step a foot from his bed, he stopped cold.

A curious noise carried to his ears. It was the clanking of manacles. He could hear that sound clear as a bell over the loudest clamor, and the memories it evoked now caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise in anticipation. His fine tuned animagus senses told him that there was something else with him in the room, and it was an unearthly thing, he knew it. His heart rose in his throat, for he knew that this being was not like the ghosts of his alma mater, it would not be friendly.

The chill in the air had intensified so much that he could see the tendrils of frosted air as they floated away from his mouth. He felt childish for at that moment, with his foot suspended awkwardly out of the bed, then the clock in the corner chimed.

The sound reverberated through the room like a shockwave. A solitary stroke of one. That dreaded hour of the night. There was no more frosty air from Sirius's face as he stopped breathing for the moment. As the sound settled on the room like a layer of dust, there was a thick silence, and then the clanking of the chains resumed.

Sirius moved so quickly that his movements would have been blurred to the onlooker. So spooked was he, that he did the only rational thing he could think of. He pulled the bed sheets over his head and squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his ears.

But some things mean for their tomes to be heard. The din of manacles as a specter approached haunted Sirius to no end, and he felt his bones grow cold as nearer and nearer they drew. A hand, weighted by the burden of said incumbents, pulled the covers back and Sirius opened his eyes.

Dark murky brown eyes peered into his very own. Sirius almost screamed at the closeness of the visage and drew away from it in revulsion. The eyes were glazed and seemed to have a glaze on them that was reminiscent of the frost that graced the windowpane.

The specter stood still, pulling itself to its full height and loomed over the bed. It said nothing for the moment, waiting it seemed. The face was unlined, the eyes hollow and deep at the same time. Ageless it seemed; no passing years seemed to have left their tacks on the features. It was clad in curious garments, ones that Sirius knew quite well. Although instead of being a dinged and dirty look, they were made of the purest white, never before had he seen his Azkaban robes in such brilliance? The being that donned them had thick arms and legs, well-muscled and felt recognition creeping up on him as his terror receded. Surely this being would bring him no ill omens.

James Potter never could bear to bring bad news to his best mate.

"James. James. Why are you here at the hour of one? Are you the being that my brother had announced?" Sirius shook his head, not understanding what the meaning of this visit was.

"I am." James's voice carried no resonation; the timbre fell as though hitting a wall of wool. There was no echo against the wooden floors, and Sirius's own voice seemed a shout, even though it rose no higher than a whisper.

"What happened to you? You're dead, and wearing my clothes? What is this madness?" Sirius knew that the clothes and chains that his friend wore were not in fact his, but logic had failed him when he first gazed into James's eyes.

"I am the Specter of Christmas Past." The being moved forward slightly, his movements so slight that it seemed as though he floated.

"My past? What do I need to see my past for? I was there for it. I remember it." Sirius was getting agitated at this point. He had passed thinking that this was a hallucination due to hunger and now simply sought answers to his questions.

Something strange welled in Sirius's chest and he rose from the bed and grabbed a robe. He averted his eyes from James and held out another robe for the specter to wear. The sight of his prison robes was too much for him to bear to look at and he wanted them out of his sight if he were to talk candidly with him.

"You wish me to cover that which you have made? I wear these because it was your passions that thus brought me forth in this state of dress. Your unbridled emotions that curse me to wear these shackles as I so do." The deceased hand took the rode and was quiet as Sirius apologized his offense. But the spirit sensed that he would find no logic in the man unless he did as instructed, and with that he covered the robes with the new one.

"I ask again what brings you here?" Sirius looked at the now faceable ghost of his friend.

"Your welfare, Sirius Black." With nothing more, the spirit held out an arm.

Sirius looked back at his bed and again the thought that this was all a horrible dream washed over him. Maybe if he just fell back asleep, Molly would wake him up with the morning, and he could forget that this had ever taken place.

"You will come with me, for I do not stand in the haze of dream." When Sirius hesitated, the spirit looked at him with fire in his gaze. Despite the heat of the stare, Sirius was chilled to the core.

Sirius took a step forward and allowed his arm to be taken by the cool embrace of the specter. They stood at the window, which opened at a glance from the specter. Sirius felt the deep chill of the London air as it rushed past the sill. He was dressed in nothing but his nightclothes and didn't dare step any closer to the freezing chill beyond. The hand that held him, though slight as a doxy's flutter, pulled him forward with the ease of a threstal. Sirius objected, surely the door was more proper than the second story window?

"James, mate, I'll fall and kill myself if we exit through the window." Sirius did not attempt to pull away.

"If you can so stand for me to reach you here," the spirit said, laying a hand over Sirius's rapidly beating heart, "You will be held high in more ways that you could ever imagine."

No sooner than the words were spoken than all of Sirius's doubts were thrown to the ice in the air. They rushed out the window and the feeling was recumbent of a portkey, but Sirius knew that this was no charm…


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't so much as land, but appeared in the center of a road. The feeling was not like apparation, but just a sense of movement, a slight shift in Sirius's perspective. Snow swirled around him, but as he felt James's arm on his own, the bitter caresses of winter could not reach him.

"I know this place, I have been here many times before." Sirius looked down the open road with wonder on his voice.

"And yet so scarce you have made yourself." James kept his eyes focused on the end of the road where there was a small cottage seated at the end of s short cul-de-sac.

Sirius inhaled the smells that seemed to waft right down the street and into his mind. Things that he had assumed that he had forgotten came rushing back in a blur of recognition. A light scent of jasmine and a deeper musk brought visions of the Potters back to Sirius. He hadn't seen their faces in many years, and he wondered why he now thought of these people. Why hadn't he come around after what happened? Surely these good people would have understood what had happened among four of the closest friends.

They walked down the street, Sirius able to remember every crack in the road, every house and gate along the way. Familiar faces of people he never really knew, but recognized their features after seeing them often enough when he came here.

Wizards out aiming wands and lighting their houses for the holidays. Exuberant wizards trying to outdo one another, adding and adding to the holiday decorations until their wives came bursting out of the doors to reprimand them.

Sirius wondered if these people could spot the two of them walking down the road. He looked to James, noting the sharp contrast between James's gaunt and somber attire and the festive decorations that flickered and illuminated everything around them. None of the light seemed to land on his best friend, it seemed to stop dead before it reached him, and while everything around them was bathed in a sea of colors, James walked amid it, a solitary gray figure, wandering.

"They cannot see us. They are a past that we have no place in." James still did not meet his friend's eyes.

Sirius knew that many of his fellow students lived here and he watched them as they filed into their homes, their faces rosy from the chill on the air, greeted by their mothers as they crossed their thresholds. Sirius knew what was to come by the single hot coal of shame he felt as a foreboding settled into his stomach. Sirius watched as a younger version of the man beside him scampered to his own door and was flung into the arms of his waiting father. The specter beside him closed his eyes.

"I came home that day alone." James said in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

Sirius remembered and was almost floored by the wall of emotions that came to his mind.

They walked on further, and in a rush of scenery flashing before their eyes, they were before the gates of Hogwarts. The highest turrets of the castles were obscured by the clouds and swirling snow that had started to fall. Sirius hadn't viewed the castle in this light for many years and again he was bombarded with emotions and a sense of nostalgia.

They entered the castle and walked the deserted halls. Not a sound was heard, no one was left at the school for this, the greatest of holidays. Picture frames were empty, their occupants gathered in some tapestry to celebrate, and the ghosts were not even to be seen. Sirius remembered the emptiness of the place well.

As they entered the Gryffindor Common room, passing the portrait as though it was a film, they spied a small boy with shaggy black hair reading by the fire. Sirius never read in front of his friends, he was always making fun of Remus for being a bookworm, but faced with long hours of loneliness, he scoured the library for anything to keep his restless mind occupied.

All around the boy, images swirled, Merlin and his great staff, proclaiming words of wisdom from the stairs to the dormitories; Nicolas Flamel, reciting the portents for the Philosopher's Stone; Demsela Diabolique, singing her laments to the sea and lost love; King Arthur and his round table; knights, wizards, witches, goblins, trolls and beasts all ran rampant in the room. All memories of the friends that Sirius had made in the hours he whiled away in front of the fire, and as Sirius named them all he started to sob.

"If only… If only I could have swallowed my pride." Sirius looked to his friend who had again closed his eyes.

"If only what, Sirius?" James's solemn question came in a deep voice.

"If only we hadn't fought the night before you left." Sirius gasped as he remembered the night. They had fought over a stupid bag of charmed chocolate coins. First years, they had many squabbles, but to fight before Christmas, Sirius realized that he should have spent his time with his fiends better, "I was so daft! I'm so sorry James."

The specter did not reply, nor open his eyes. A flicker of pain seemed to cross its face, but when Sirius looked closer, it had been schooled away.

"Let's move on, we have much to see tonight." James waved his arm, and although they did not move, the scene around them subtly changed. Tables were moved, different chairs faced the fire, and again, a younger Sirius was before them. He paced the floors with a determined look in his eyes.

All the while he had assumed he was alone in the castle, but without a warning, there was a clatter from outside the dormitory. The little girl that had burst in didn't heed the surprise on his face as she flung herself into the younger Sirius. She pulled away from the friendly hug and Sirius gasped at the flash of red hair that shimmered like the setting amber sun. He never found out how she had known he would be there alone at that moment.

"Sirius, Sirius!! Come on! I'm here to take you home for the holidays!" Lily laughed at his confused expression. "I know, we'll go back to mocking each other when we return, but Sirius, no one should be alone for the holidays!"

"What do you mean?" His younger self asked. Sirius remembered the shame that he felt that day as Lily revealed that she knew he spent the holidays here alone. She told him that he needed to swallow his pride and spend these times with his friends rather than here alone in the castle. She dragged him to the door and through the halls, ignoring his arguments that he was just fine there alone.

Dumbledore saw them to the door and conjured his luggage for him. The Knight Bus arrived at the edge of the gate and Sirius remembered the moments alone with Dumbledore as he said goodbye to the castle for his first holiday away. There seemed to be a warning from Dumbledore as he saw them off, a condescending look that he had never before seen from the headmaster and would never see again.

"My Lily had a heart of gold, never have I seen so fine a creature." James again closed his eyes.

"I know it, mate." Sirius nodded his agreement.

"She died her finest hour as the woman I loved." James continued, "And we had a child."

"Harry, James I know this already." Sirius looked to the specter whom still had its eyes closed in reverie.

"Your Godson." James's voice would have cracked had it been a bit louder.

Sirius was uncomfortable with his friend's silence after the last two words, and tried to break it. "Yes. My Godson."

But nothing could clear the ache that had settled in both men's hearts as they stood in front of the school that night. It settled in the very marrow of Sirius's bones and chilled his already icy blood.


	4. Chapter 4

As suddenly as they arrived in the previous vision, they were pulled into another. They were in the midst of the city streets, people bustling around them, obviously doing their last minute Christmas shopping. The streets were alight, bells tinkled above shop doors and Sirius knew this street well. The grim specter at his side eyed the scene with his hollow eyes.

"Do you know this place?" He asked in his unearthly voice.

"Know it? I lived here for a time. I learned all there was to know about how to fight the Dark Arts here. Alongside you. How could I forget this place?" Sirius said as they stopped in front of a nondescript squat building.

They entered the door and in front of them, seated at a small desk was a large man. He had protruding teeth, and his face was red and flustered. A woman seated next to him continued her work, noting a parchment in front of her. The parchment rolled over the edge of the table right onto the floor, but the witch didn't mind it, she continued her furious scribbling.

"It's Frank Longbottom! Alive! And Alice next to him!" Sirius cried, remembering his old friends fondly.

Frank laid down his pen and looked at the clock that hung above the door. He rubbed his eyes wearily and nudged his wife next to him.

"Sirius! James! It's time!" He yelled, his timid voice happy and loud in the small building.

A younger Sirius and James appeared in the room and Sirius gasped at his former self and friend.

"James. It's you, mate. Alive, poor you." Sirius had rarely thought back to these days, and seeing them in front of his was a shock to behold.

"It's Christmas Eve guys! No more work for tonight, let's head over to the Three Broomsticks and then be on our way home for the night." Frank grabbed for his cloak and Alice finally looked up from her parchment.

In an instant, all four had gone to work, closing the doors, charming the windows. All of this was to guard the work that they had yet accomplished, charms that kept their work safe from prying eyes. After all had been done, they gathered back in the cramped foyer of the building and were ready to depart.

They closed the door behind them and made their way to the small tavern that had been enlarged for the occasion, all tables and chairs moved to the side, and people had already started to arrive and helped with the festivities. Rosemerta placed pints of butterbeer on the counter faster than people could grab them. She stocked firewhiskey for the bolder people who sought to rid their chills quicker, and tea and mead for the older crowd. This was a mixed gathering, all who had worked together for so long, they had all come together this night for a celebration. Lilly was there, stunning in a red dress. Remus, alone for the night, wooed the women with his quiet charm. There was Arthur and Molly, accompanied by their two small children, and Peter sat quiet in the corner, nursing a firewhiskey. The music began and everyone started to whirl around the makeshift dancefloor, everyone finding a partner in the sea of faces. There was Albus dancing slowly with Minerva, laughing at something James had shouted to him. He saw his former self walk over to a shy looking brown-haired woman and bow to her as he asked her for a dance. He remembered her deep brown eyes, and how he had stared at them all night, transfixed by her subtle beauty.

The dancing continued, and the room started to heat up. Flustered and laughing people lined at the bar for more drinks, but were forced to wait as Rosemerta had taken a dance with Remus Lupin. A short waltz and then she was back at her post. Slightly before eleven, she rang a bell and announced last call, and when the time came, she waved her wand and the bar was cleaned. She milled about the crowd, conjuring cloaks, wishing everyone a happy holiday, and shuffling people out the door.

While Sirius had watched all of this, he was flooded with the memories that the time brought to him. He gazed at his earlier self, dancing with the woman he remembered so fondly, how could he have ever forgotten those soulful eyes for even a moment of his life? He was like a madman and he wondered what had ever become of the woman that had stole his heart that night.

Sirius was so caught up in his own thoughts about her, that he had forgotten the ghost of his friend beside him. He watched as the former self and James retired to their apartment that they shared above the Three Broomsticks and turned to the specter.

"A small matter," He stated, "And yet so large to steal a man's very heart."

"Small." Sirius agreed.

The spirit motioned for Sirius to listen to the conversation that they had that night as they readied themselves for bed.

"I love her Sirius." James said as he pulled his sleeping clothes on.

"I think I know what you mean now." Sirius thought of those eyes as he spoke that night. James was too involved in his own speech, and obviously didn't hear what Sirius had said.

"I think I'm going to ask her. To marry me, I mean. We're not in school anymore, and everything is going so well, we've been making advances against You-Know-Who, I think now is the time for us to tie the knot." James looked at Sirius who had seated himself at the edge of his bed. Those eyes. "Are you listening, man?" James asked.

"I am. That's nice." Sirius replied half-heartedly.

James leveled with the younger Sirius then, and had peered into his eyes. "Don't you see! She's my all! Love. That's what it's all about, mate! It has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or toil. Say that this power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then? The happiness it gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune!"

"James, you're babbling again, what are you trying to say?" Sirius remembered his nonchalant attitude, but knew that James's words had indeed struck a chord within him.

"I'm in love. That's not even the right way to say it. I know what love is. I'll never fall out of it! I know this! I'm going to ask her, I swear." James finished, plopping himself into his bed.

Sirius felt the specter look at him.

"What is it, Sirius?" He asked.

"Nothing." Sirius damned himself as he realized he was crying. But the tears kept coming.

"Not nothing, if you break like this, what is it?" The specter kept his gaze steady.

"I just wish I could see you that happy again." Sirius expected a reproach or mocking laugh, but felt despair even more as the specter seemed to close its eyes again.

"My time is limited, and there is yet more to see." The specter finally responded. With his words, the scene again changed and a slightly older Sirius was before them. Seated before him in the still grass of a small park was a woman.

A woman with the same intense chocolate brown eyes that had so seduced him years before. She was draped in black mourning clothes that outshone even the specter's previous clothes. Sirius's face was drawn and angry in comparison to her smooth and unwavering glance.

"It matters little. To you very little. Another man has been taken in, and the wheels of the Ministry turn regardless. They will stop at nothing whether it is right or wrong." She sighed a melancholy sound, escaping her.

"What man has been taken?" He asked.

"My golden one." She looked at him with a heavy heart.

"That's how the world works, love. These things happen, and life goes on." He tried to reassure her. He remembered the feelings that he had, bitter waiting, years of work, for nothing. He remembered thinking that it was about time the Ministry had stepped in and decided to take their side in the stand against the Dark Lord. "We must pursue this thing no matter what."

"You fear the world too much, Sirius Black. You have to let go and live, before the time that they take you away approaches. I can feel it. It's coming." She paused, "And then they will take you from my arms as we wait for them to come. This is the future that we have to fear. I See it." She stopped and waited as though someone that none of them could see was talking into her tiny perfect ear.

"I'm still the same to you. Despite all these things that I have done, I've never changed to you."

She stared at him.

"Have I?" He faltered suddenly. Realization hit Sirius as he stood side by side with the specter. He had changed. When he had wondered what had happened with the brown-eyed-girl from that dance so long ago, this is what had happened. She had been here all along. He had changed, there was no doubt about that.

He had said the same words to her, the same that he had said to her from the first night at that dance, but his will had changed. He told himself that he had loved her with all his heart, but he had changed on the inside. His feeling for her could not compare to the feelings if revenge he felt that he had to have against the Dark Lord. There was nothing that he could do to quell the wave of remorse that came crashing over him as he contemplated what he had done to the woman in front of him.

"The memory of what you have become will stay with you, and I hope you remember it well as they pull you away." She said as they parted. There was nothing more to be said between the two of them. He watched her depart with a tinge of guilt and even more despair.

Sirius turned to the ghost. "No more, I can see no more. Take me home, I can suffer no more of this madness."

"There is one more sight that I will have you see, brother." The specter replied in a quiet voice.


	5. Chapter 5

When Sirius opened his eyes again, they were in another room all together. It was a familiar room, he had been here many times in the past, and he had loved it. In one corner of the room, there was an antique cradle, carved and spread with knitted blankets. In the cradle laid a small boy. Just a baby, sleeping with his diapered end sticking up in the air, slightly snoring. A woman with brilliant red hair faced the cradle, humming quietly to herself. The humming rose into a crescendo into a light singing, but the baby did not stir.

Sirius gasped as a grown Lily Evans looked up from her reading. Her brow furrowed, but her singing continued. It was almost as though she knew someone were to walk through the door. And to Sirius's surprise, someone did. With his back to the door, the offending person had walked right through him as though he were a shadow, not a single questioning look given. The man then walked to where his wife was seated and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Lily gasped and looked to the door, but there was no one else to enter behind him. She schooled her features and looked back to her husband in front of her.

"James! You're home early!" She said in a false cheerful voice.

But the James in front of her seemed not to notice the forced expressions or the trepidation in her eyes. He was rifling through a bag that he had carried in with him. He started to talk to her as he searched for an item.

"Lily," he started, "I saw an old friend of ours today!"

"Oh, who was it?" She asked, her eyes flicking to him and the door.

"Guess!" He rolled his eyes at her.

"How can I? Sheesh! I don't know." She pretended to think for a minute, not wanting her husband to know that she knew who it was already. "Sirius Black!" She said laughing.

"Sirius it was! How you always guess, I'll never know." He missed the knowing smile she flashed as he continued to rummage through his bag. Her eyes nervously fluttered from the doors to the windows now and she grimaced. "I passed him as he was hunched over that desk of his, studying his books, learning all the new spells he can. He's alone a lot lately. Maybe we should invite him over to see Harry more." James looked up quickly and caught his wife's eyes on the door.

Can't you see we're going to die James!

Lily's voice reverberated through Sirius's head and James again closed his haunted eyes. But even as Lily's mental scream of torment escaped her mind, her melodic voice was even and steady and she replied, "Yes, James, that's a brilliant idea." It was stiff, but James went on talking.

"Spirit, remove me from this place at once, I cannot bear to see it!" He turned to the specter and shouted. James's surreal face did not change, but the eyes opened and it seemed to Sirius that they were not their normal hue, nor the dead grey color they had been, but they were as green as Lily's or Harry's had ever been and they shone with a fierce light, as though torched from the inside.

"I told you, these are things from that past that have happened. Don't blame me for what you failed to see." James replied.

Sirius drew his arm back and swung. His hand went right through the specter with a small puff of dust, but no change came to James's face. Sirius tried again, to no avail. He was insanely frustrated and screaming to be let go from this display. Even as he spoke, the door to Harry's room had been blown open and the former Voldemort had entered the room. James fell to the floor dead, and Lily had thrown herself in front of the cradle. She was screaming, and there was the same fire in her eyes that he had seen just now in the specter's. He grabbed for anything to cover his eyes with, he couldn't bear to see this, it was too much.

The specter's robes were no longer intangible and he clutched them and buried his face in them. He heard the last screams of Lily and what sounded like a car backfiring. He howled, sounding much like a large dog baying at the moon, and pulled the robes closer to his face.

When the sounds subsided, he slowly realized that he was no longer on his feet. Nor was he still in Godric's Hollow. He was lying in his bed, his old robe pressed to his face, sweating profusely and feeling as though he had run a marathon. He sat with a start and looked about the room, but other than the robe in his hand, there was nothing to be seen of the specter which had caused him so much distress. He sank back to the pillow and was asleep before his head could comprehend what had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

Sirius snored in his sleep, and woke himself up with the offensive sound. He shot up in bed, and seemed to hear the gears of the clock churn just before they reached the hour. One toll rang through the room and Sirius rubbed his eyes. He couldn't get the scene the he had fled from out of his head and it was eating at his brain. Lily and James. Watching them die, seeing the terror that Lily must have felt moments before the door blew open. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind with the last of the clock chime.

He knew now that this was no dream he had been locked in. Nothing was going to erase the image of his former friends from his mind, there was no way he could stand to be surprised right now. He cowered in his bed and waited, knowing that something was to come tonight, and he was going to be ready for it. No hiding under the covers this time, he was going to face it head on.

There's a manner about a man who has been taken by surprise and given an awful fright. He waits, staring at all shadows of the room, waiting for an unseen stalker to leap into the open, taking any shape. A stalker with the mind to scare the wits out of him again for sport. Sirius did just that. Sat in his bed, with the covers to his nose, peering all about the room, ready himself to pounce on anything that sought to disturb him that night. And one that is on edge like that, waiting for something to happen; he is taken even more by surprise when nothing happens.

The clock ticked and nothing. A quarter past. A half passed. Another quarter. But still Sirius's eyes stayed scanning the room, looking to the window, the closet, the armoire, the shadows in the corner, all for nothing. Nothing happened.

But something was coming. He knew it. There was no doubt after that vision that something was amiss. It didn't fade like a normal dream does, fluttering away as his mind became more conscious; this vision became clearer and clearer in his mind as he waited the minutes away. He became aware of an unearthly light that seemed to emanate from the clock itself. That light hadn't caught his attention before and he looked for the source of it. The closet.

He got up and made his way to the door, knowing that each step he took was probably bringing him closer and closer to whatever malice waited for him that night. His heart started thumping in his chest and his hands were trembling as he reached for the closet door.

Before he could grasp it, a voice called to him. "Sirius Black. Enter." It said. Sirius's hackles rose as the voice struck a chord within him. He knew that voice, long had he known it. The sound of it made a well of fury bubble up in him and for a moment his vision was blurred. He entered the closet, but to his amazement, it was a mirror image of his own room. As he crossed the threshold and looked back over his shoulder, the door vanished, leaving only the dusty wall in its wake.

He turned and looked back to the room. His mother had always made the house elves decorate for the season, even the rooms that they slept in. Garland, holly and mistletoe adorned the walls and there was poinsettias spread throughout the room. There was a raging fire in the hearth, one that he had not seen since before Kreature had lost his sanity. It was so amazing, that for a moment he seemed to forget the voice that had summoned him through the door.

"Come in and know me better, Man." The figure said. Sirius took notice of him for the first time. He was a stout man, dressed in green to match the livery in the room, and Sirius realized that his attire was the reason he had not seen him upon entering the room. This was not the face of the man since he had last seen him.

Peter Pettigrew's eyes did not bear the nervous twitch that they did when Sirius last saw him. They were warm and kind, peering at Sirius with an alien expression on his face. It radiated kindness, but Sirius's heart recoiled. This was the face that had betrayed them all. This was the man who had taken his freedom and the lives of many of his friends through his deeds. Sirius could not meet the eyes of the visage before him. He lowered them to the floor and clenched his fists.

"I am the ghost of Christmas Present." Peter said. "Look upon me."

Sirius raised his eyes, feeling the anger welling again, but forcing it to it's place. Peter was clad in green robes, with a white fur trim, hanging off his plump body. Where the robes didn't drag on the floor, Sirius could see that his feet were bare. On his balding head was a crown of Hawthorne, ringed with icicles and shimmering in the dim light. Held in his hand was a broken wand, rotted with age and dangling by it's core.

"You have seen the likes of me before?" He asked Sirius.

"Never." Sirius replied. "The Peter I knew is alive, and never before smiled or radiated peace the way that you do before me."

"Have you walked with my brothers in arms before, known the face of my associates?" The spirit asked.

"I doubt I have." Sirius replied. "How many brothers have you?" He asked.

"To you, I have three. We share two. But to others I have many. Faceless and countless, they hide in the shadows and await their call. We are countless and restless." Peter responded.

"That's a large family to account for." Sirius said.

"If only you knew the scope of it." Peter said as he rose.

Sirius rose with him and regarded his former friend. There was something in the face of the specter that made him wish to speak candidly. There was nothing he felt he had to hide from this being, and he faced him in all honesty.

"Peter." He started, "Take me where you will. I left here in haste last night. And I have learned a lesson and seen many things that have stayed with me to this night. I am hounded by them, and learning the depth of what I face. Tonight, if there is a lesson for me to have, teach it to me. So I can embrace it with full understanding."

"Touch my robe." Peter replied, his face not changing.

Sirius did as he was told, and held on tight.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything vanished before Sirius's eyes as though he had touched a portkey. The sights before him swirled and glimmered, and he was unceremoniously plopped into a busy intersection of a London street. Sirius looked all around, but couldn't decipher where he was at. Wherever it was, Sirius didn't like the look of the place.

The fronts of the houses here were covered in a smoky black soot, covering the sharp red of the bricks beneath and tainting their appearance. Sirius saw how the snow had been plowed and piled on the sides of the road, soot congealed within to give it a dingy and dirty feel. Gritty snow was piled under the tires of fast driving cars, run down cars that emitted a toxic fume that lay heavy in the air. Although Sirius knew he was not corporeal here, he could almost feel a layer of grit clinging to him, and sympathized with the people scurrying around through the streets. The sky was a gunmetal grey, vast and foreboding above them, and Sirius feared what he was to see in these visions, much more than he had with the previous specter, even being aware of the nature of visions he was to embark on.

This was a wizarding town, and Sirius could see that the people of it took no pains to hide their magic. Vendors stood valiantly in the dirty snow, yelling their prices, luring people in the vicinity to buy their goods. There were grocers next to wand makers, even the proprietor of the apothecary was shoving sprigs of Hawthorne into passing people's faces. Despite the poor state of their residence, the people seemed more of less jovial, as though there was hidden deep beneath, a sense of happiness over their plight. Sirius never had to live in the squalor he saw before him, his family never had the opportunity to travel to places like these. Women huddled in black robes and cloaks picked their way from broken cart to battered store front, haggling with owners and sellers for a better price. Young wizards ran through the crowd, tattered robes flapping behind them, throwing dirty snowballs at each other and giggling in the cold.

Throughout all of this there was a somber air amongst the adults that had gathered in darkened doorways, all keeping a cautious eye out for anyone they considered other than themselves to be suspicious. All around there was a sense of something going on, something rode through the crowd like an undercurrent, some nameless fear was growing in this crowd of downtrodden people, some malice that filled the air with an uncanny tension.

Sirius looked past all this and noted that the end of the day had indeed come, grocers and artisans were closing their already shuttered shops, the last tinkle of scales and changing of money was heard, and the sound made Sirius feel indifferent. The sound was normally associated with higher end shops, he remembered his own father weighing out a parcel of figs and raisins for his family and handing the grocer a handful of sickles. Now hearing the noise in this street, the memory was even more tarnished than he felt comfortable recollecting.

A great tolling rung out through the street and the clamor was enough to hasten the actions of the buyers. Many people committed a multitude of little errors in it's wake, all eager to get to the steeple that called them all. Vendors were frank and honest through the turmoil, none wanting the black mark of committing an un-honest act in the wake of such righteous bells. Slowly, laden with packs and satchels, the crowd filtered out of the stores and filed themselves not into the church, but into great halls of their own making, all in the eager anticipation of a meal and camaraderie.

The vast amount of people who could not pass the arched doors of the church passed their own hallowed doors to partake in an act of their own communion, breaking bread amongst themselves, sharing their feeling of euphoria about the holiday in their own way. It was not the fact that they could not attend the ceremony held within the vast walls of the sanctuary, it was the fact that it was a closed door to them, dividing them from the rest of the community by matter of social classes and definitions of a man by the pay he makes and the bread he graces his families table with. The doors were closed to them, they were not part of that community. Sirius knew the church well.

The pair turned their back from these doors and followed the tattered cloaks of the people entering the bakers hall. The people entering this building seemed a great interest to the Spirit, and he walked among them with ease. Sirius noted that as he passed tables and stools, he seemed to plunge his hand into the fire of his own torch and sprinke the ash from within onto the loaves that had been set upon the tables.

"Is there a particular flavor you sprinkle from your torch?" Sirius asked his former friend.

"There is. It is my own." He replied, still with his hand within the flame that threatened to devour the limb.

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" Sirius asked, trying to gain understanding of the spirit's actions.

"To any given in the act of kindness. But it pleases the poor man most." He said in a hollow voice.

"Why to a poor man the most?" Sirius asked, utterly perturbed by the side of his friend that he had never witnessed before.

"Because it needs it most." Peter said as though it were the most common knowledge.

Sirius's mind whirled at the thoughts of what these things could mean, and for the life of him, he could not get the visage of his former friend's previous actions out of his mind. He started as he assumed he realized the extent of the spirit's actions.

"Peter!" He exclaimed, "I wonder of you. One of all the beings of the many worlds around us, should want to stifle the merriment of the people around us."

"Me?" Cried the spirit.

"You would deprive them of their means to dine every seventh day, often the only day on which they dine at all sometimes, I'm sure." He paused, a glint of anger building in his eye. "Wouldn't you?"

"Me?!" Cried the spirit again, this time, the exclamation of his former habits twinkling through his demeanor.

"You want to close these places on the seventh day." Sirius countered, feeling a weakness in the specter, gaining familiarity in this break in his act. "It means the same."

"I seek." Peter said, and as Sirius looked, he felt that he may have been mistaken. Surely Peter could do no wrong, he was too daft, too dumb to do anything of his own thinking. Sirius looked into his friend's eyes and acknowledged his mistake.

"Forgive me if I am wrong. But I have seen greater evils done in your name, and I know the propensity of your will when so directed."

The spirit regarded him in silence for a moment. There was no malice in his eye, only the quest to find a way to explain his actions of the past better to the man before him. "There are some things in this world of yours, Sirius Black, who lay claim to know us. They commit their acts of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name. I have been victim in the past. These people are strange to us and our kin, in times of peace it is as though they have never lived. Remember that, friend, and charge their doings on themselves, and not us."

Sirius nodded that he would. There was something of a glint of remorse in the specter's eyes and he remembered the friendship that they had once shared. There was something to be said of that friendship in combination with the admission that he had just uttered, not an excuse, but a setting straight of the record.

They continued on, past the halls. Through the battered suburbs they progressed, passing houses which flickered memories now in Sirius's mind. Long had he tried to forget these streets, having avoided this town for a long time. Sirius marveled at Peter's stature, fat and hefty though he was, he seemed to pass the multitude of people with ease, walking into narrow passages with the lightest air. Sirius had never in life seen his friend more graceful, and never thought that he possessed the talent.

Perhaps it was the old façade of Peter, showing off his new talent, lacking any on his previous existence. Sirius pondered over this as they passed rows and rows of nondescript buildings, Peter was indeed alive when he feel asleep that night, ehy was it he was leading him through these passages; the man was the opposite of his living self. Sirius watched as they were led to a finally familiar door through the rows and rows of identical ones. It was Remus Lupin's childhood home, and he watched as the Spirit took another hand of ashes and blessed the door of the four-room home with them. Romulus Lupin, Remus's father, was a very poor man. If there was a need for a blessing of any kind, he was the man who surely needed it the most.

Remus's mother, Adelaide stood amongst a brood of children. They swarmed her legs, and she obligingly gave them all a taste of the feast that was in a small pot on the stove. There wasn't much, but Adelaide never could turn her back on a hungry child without at least offering a taste to whet the gnawing hunger that they all felt.

"What has gotten into your father?" She asked the group of children as they clamored against her in renewed vigor. "And your brother Remus? And Dumbledore hasn't been later than he has tonight."

"Here's Dumbledumb!" A little girl exclaimed, looking out the broken window to the street.

Adelaide giggled at the mispronunciation, knowing that the man would not be angered by the mistake.

As the old man walked in the door she exclaimed, "You're late!" and took his pointed hat and colorful cloak away to be vanished to the hall closet.

"There was a great deal of work to finish up," he said in a sift booming voice, "And we had a battle of a time to finish it up this morning."

"Well, never mind that, come in and warm yourself by the fire." She said steering him to the fire that was blazing in the hearth.

As he was seated a chorus of small voices cried aloud, "There's father! Hide Dumbledore!!" They plucked the old man out of his chair and unceremoniously shoed him into the hall closet.

Romulus Lupin walked in the door, tattered robes patched and newly hemmed to honor the greatness of the occasion. He had upon his shoulder the smallest of the Lupin children, Remus. His face and shoulder bandaged and broken. Despite the obvious injury, he was smiling as much as his face would allow and laughing at some joke his father had just told him.


	8. Chapter 8

"Where's Dumbledore?" Romulus Lupin asked, looking around the room.

"Not coming." Said Adelaide, pointedly ignoring the giggles from the children around her.

"Not coming!" Romulus cried, "Not coming on Christmas?!" He was sad and disappointed.

Dumbledore couldn't stand to see the man disappointed as he was, and he leapt out of the closet with an energy that belied his advancing years. He grasped the man's hand and shook it and the gaggle of children cheered and laughed. They followed Remus out of the room to wash up for dinner.

"How did little Remus behave?" Adelaide asked Romulus. She admitted that although the boy seemed well by day, he awoke in the night with nightmares of the attack.

"As good as gold, he was." Romulus looked to the washroom door and lowered his voice so only Adelaide and Dumbledore could hear him. But the thought had been worrying him as well. "He's changed, he gets so thoughtful sitting by himself. He doesn't talk to anyone he doesn't know anymore. We met Hagrid and his son Rubeus on the way, and Remus wouldn't come out from behind me to say a proper hello. Rubeus is just as large as a large grown man, and hairy. I think that put Remus off a little. I know it still troubles him, though he won't make a complaint to it."

Romulus's voice shook as he said it, the joviality gone from his face for a fleeting moment. "But he's getting better! I can see him getting stronger as the days pass, he'll be fine!" Romulus forced the cheerfulness back into his voice with effort. The children clamored back into the room.

Remus was helped to his stool by the others and his father looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. To Sirius, the gesture was a brave one. He knew now the story of Remus's injuries. Fenrir Greyback had bitten the child in the dark of night to make Romulus pay for opposing him. Romulus had stormed into the room and faced the great werewolf as he tried to drag Remus from his bed. "Bite them when they're young and raise them properly!" Fenrir's mantra went, and he had fully intended to take Remus with him. The man that sat before Sirius looked too old, to frail to ever stand to a beast like that, but for his son he had. Now work was scarce with the enemies he had, and food and money were lacking. The man rolled the sleeves of his robe up, giving himself an even shabbier look. Another roar of noise was heard from the children as they retrieved the meager goose that was the meal.

Much talk erupted at the state of the goose! Everyone at the table mearly drooled at the sight of it! The children all partiently waited, some stuffing their empty spoons in their mouth in anticipation. To see the small bird, almost the size of a Cornish hen, one would have never thought it able to feed the mass of people around the table, but it was held in such high esteem that no one said anything about the size or inadequacies of such a feast. For any Lupin to utter the words, it would be heresay.

Everyone went into a flurry of movement, Adelaide heated the gravy in a saucepan, the children mashed the potatoes and readied the applesauce, Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured hot plates for the meal, nothing fancier than Adelaides, but a perfect match to her helter-skelter collection of mismatched plates. Romulus took Remus and seated him next to himself at the corner of the table, and all the children went to fetch chairs and stools for themselves, almost hovering over them with anticipation. Adelaide served everyone, and seated herself.

Dumbledore in his usual manner said a few words before the meal, nothing long-winded, he had abstained from food all day waiting for this meal, and the feast began.

There never was such a goose. As feeble as it seemed upon the platter, it was filling. Stuffing issued forth and accompanied every bite. No one was left unsatisfied by the meager portions, and Sirius marveled at the vigor in which they ate. Sirius was used to lavish meals at that age, and was surprised that not a child complained at the cheapness of the meal. It was a testament to the goodwill of the season, and the thankfulness of all mouths being fed. Romulus hated to admit it, but a meal such as this was rare indeed and would set him back weeks in pay.

Adelaide rose and blushed as she went into the kitchen. She had prepared a pudding that was a handed down recipe to her family. She had to buy sencond rate products to make it, and haggled with many shop keepers to acquire all of the proper materials. She had set it on the windowsill of the kitchen to cool, and her nervousness reached a peak as she went to retrieve it. What if someone had stolen it from it's spot? What if she dropped it on her way back in? What if the ingredients weren't proper? What if the vanilla was bitter? All these thoughts Sirius was suddenly privy to, and he wondered at the woman's nervousness over a small dish of pudding. It was Remus's favorite, one that was rare in the Lupin home, indeed Remus had it only once in his life, and never forgot the taste. Sirius gaped as it dawned on him that Remus even passed over the pudding at Hogwarts, probably in respect for the very dish that was walking past him to the table.

The pudding was taken from the pan it cooled in and the smell of it filled the room. Everyone's mouths watered again at the sight of it, and the group hushed as Adelaide served each of them a tiny piece. It was the greatest gift of the holiday. The smell of pudding and the normally cold room filling with warmth from the people within it, everyone smiled as a silent understanding went through the room.

"This is the greatest pudding you've ever made in all the time I've known you Addie!" Romulus stated in all seriousness.

"I'm glad you all like it. I had my doubts about whether or not-" She started, but was cut off by the grateful looks of everyone in the room. A weight was removed from her shoulders over the success of her meal and she heaved a sigh of relief.

At last dinner was done, and all the plates vanished to the sink for cleaning and they all gathered comfortably around the fire. They roasted meager chestnuts and Romulus pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey he had saved for the occasion. He passed around glasses to all, and Adelaide retrieved a small amount of butterbeer for the children. Dumbledore raised his glass and proposed a toast.

"A merry Christmas to all, my dears! Gods bless us all!"

"God bless us, every one!" Remus said from his little stool next to his father. Romulus took his son's small hand in his own and smiled at the boy. He dreaded anything should happen to the boy, and cringed at the thought of anyone taking him. A guilty voice whispered from the back of the man's mind, reminding him that he had almost lost him once before, and it was plain for all eyes to see that he was burdened by the reminder.

"Peter, tell me if Remus will live." Sirius said. Surely he was being shown this for a reason. He had to know what was going to happen to his friend. He knew he grew up to be a man, but what after that?

"I see a vacant seat." Peter responded looking grim, "I see a table and a girl with pink hair sobbing. If these shadows remain unaltered by the furture, Remus will be no more."

"No, No!" Sirius yelled. "Say that's not true! Say he will be spared!"

"As I said, if these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other than my race will find him here. He'll be gone from your world!" Peter added with a sneer, "If he's going to die, he better do it, and thus control the surplus population!"

Sirius hung his head. His father's choice words when it came to dealing with blood traitors and muggles. How had Sirius grown in that house to be the man that he became? His father's words haunted him every where he went.

"Man," Peter started, "Who was your father to judge the surplus? He tried to judge the men that would live and die. To me it would seem that your father didn't deserve to live more than any of a million boys maimed as young Remus was."

Sirius hung his head again. He knew his father was involved in pretty bad stuff, and he knew that a lot happened that he had no idea of, but tonight Sirius was witnessing a lot that had to do with his father, and for some reason he was bearing the burden that his father should. This guilt was not meant to be Sirius's, it was meant for his father. His ears perked up as he heard his own proper name spoken in this small room.

"To Mister Black!" Romulus said, holding his glass high, "The founder of this feast!"

"The founder of the feast, indeed." Adelaide said, her face becoming red and angry. "I wish he were here right now, I've a mouthful to tell him."

Romulus looked at his wife with sadness in his eyes. "It's Christmas." He knew that his dealings with Mister Black had inadvertently caused his to fall into ill-favor with Fenrir Greyback, and the thought that the man was responsible for his son's disfigurement weighed heavy on his mind. But he strove to instill the best qualities in his children, and they all obligingly raised their meager glasses.

"I'll drink to his health for your sake, and only on this day." Adelaide added. "To Mister Black."

After this small exchange, a palor seemed to hang in the room for a good five minutes, as just the thought of Sirius's family had drained the cheer from the room. It was now a cold room, despite the fire and bodies.

Dumbledore watched it all, keeping in the background wich was not at all normal for him, a small sad twinkle in his eye.

After it had passed, there was more cheer in the room than there previously was and Sirius marveled at the heartiness of these people. They seemed to bounce back from such a funk with ease. Romulus talked about how his elder son was going to go into business with him soon. A scholar, learned all himself with dusty books provided by Dumbledore, and a Hogwarts education that lacked anything lower than outstandings. Dumbledore talked about the school, and the plans he had for it in the future, and everyone laughed at his small jokes about his age and the weariness of being around young people all the time, but they knew that he would have it no other way.

Remus stood toward the end of the gathering and sang a small song he had been practicing about a boy lost in the snow. His voice was almost angelic, and everyone in the room loved the song. Remus was very proud of himself.

There was nothing immedeiately notable about the sight that Sirius had seen, these were common people, shabby clothes, shabby house, meager food. A plight that he had not become aware of until much later in his life. They were content in their surroundings, happy with one another, and peaceful in their own home. Sirius marveled at the way they seemed to take on an even happier ambiance under the torch of the spirit. As the scene faded, Sirius kept his eyes on Remus until he was no longer in his sight.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time they departed, it was snowing heavily and the sky was dark with heavy clouds. Sirius walked with the Spirit down the roads and looked at the familiar streets with a new sense of understanding. The streets were loud with the meeting of loved ones all around him, all coming home for a warm dinner. Children laughed and hugged their siblings, and as they walked, more and more shades were pulled against the cold darkness in the street. Sirius shuddered as he realised he was part of the cold darkness, and he pulled his sleeping robes tighter around him.

It seemed that every house was expecting company, and he wondered where all these people came from. Why here? To this desolate tenement block? And weren't there parties going on anywhere else? It seemed that all of London had emptied to come here for a meal. Chimneys glowed with their flames, and the Spirit next to Sirius smiled, waving his hand and extending his good cheer to all the homes as he passed. Sirius was in awe oh his friend's unselfish behavior, and was taken aback at the demeanor he possessed.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut as he realized the landscape had changed. They stood on the fringe of a desolate field. It was massive, nothing growing in it but frosted puddles and dead grass. Small shrubs had tried to flourish but were dwarfed by the large stones that jutted from the ground. The scene brought to Sirius's mind a cemetery of giants, the mounds of hills dotted with stone and towering tombstones. The setting sun flared in the west, still lingering on the horizon. It's intense crimson painted the hills in fiery death, and all around nothing seemed to live.

"What is this place?" Sirius asked, edging closer to the Spirit in the growing gloom.

"A place where forgotten people live. They dig into the earth." The Spirit replied. "But they know me, see?"

A light shone from a small window of a squat hut next to one of the larger stones. They walked towards it, quickly coming upon it's source. They passed through the ramparts of mud and stone, moving along with ease despite the obvious pitfalls a normal man would face. This place was meant not to be found, and Sirius wondered what it was he needed to see here. A small family huddled around a hearth fire, singing Christmas carols of old, keeping warm by the side of the fire.

The Spirit didn't stop here, despite the knowing looks from the faces of the family. He moved on, crossing the moore until he came upon a crashing and thundering surf. The sea stretched before them, clad in all if it's violent fury, the waves crashing into the rocks, seeing entrance to underground caves, longing to take back the land it claimed as it's own so long ago. They traveled over it at the greatest speed, passing boats in the darkness, and it was here that Sirius was very afraid. He saw in the darkness a slithering malice, hissing into the night, a skull it housing in the waves. A face flashed before him, and in that water, Sirius saw death. A curtain of darkness and the creeping creatures that lurked beyond, regretting the life that they threw away. In that darkness Sirius saw himself, clinging to the things that might have come to pass, had he not been so proud, so brooding.

A laughter startled him from his thoughts and he looked wildly around for it's source. Nothing prepared him for the change of scenery that engulfed hi so quickly. He realized that he must have been lost in his thoughts for some time, and his eyes fell on a man seated before him.

Harry Potter. His nephew, not by blood, but by the thicker bonds of friendships he had made so long ago.

"HAHAHAH!!" Harry laughed.

Harry's laugh was infectious, and all who knew it wanted to laugh as well. When Harry laughed this loud, holding his sides and tears springing from his eyes, Ginny couldn't help but laugh as hard as she could as well. Touched by their laughter, Hermione and Ron couldn't help but laugh also.

"HAHAHAHA"

"He said that Christmas was a humbug, I swear by Merlin's beard! Who does he think he is, Ebenezer Scrooge?" Harry laughed, playfully poking fun at his Godfather.

"More shame for him then, Harry. He was drunk! Did you hear him singing?" Ginny snorted, leaning towards Harry.

Harry thought she was perfect. Her hair was red as the setting sun, and he lips, well, he couldn't think about those with Ron in the room.

"He's funny like that sometimes. But for all his bad manners, he's got to feel the weight of it for himself." Harry said.

"Isn't he loaded?" Ron asked, "I think he'd have to be."

"Oh what of it?" Harry replied. "He inherited it from a family he hated, and he never uses it to make himself or anyone more comfortable, it just sits in a vault. It's almost like he's afraid to touch it."

"I have no patience with him." Hermione stated, ignoring Harry's glare.

"I have! I can't help but feel sorry for him." Harry argued. "I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. I know you're mad that he refuses to eat with us sometimes, and that he's a bit reckless, but those things don't hurt us, they hurt him. So he misses a dinner. It's his own loss."

"Not just a dinner, mate. A bloody fantastic one." Ron said, leaning back in his chair and laying a hand on his bulging stomach. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but everyone agreed.

"Mum'll be glad to hear it. She shooed that Kreature right out of the kitchen and prepared the whole meal by hand. It took all day. Right Ron?" Ginny asked.

Ron didn't answer, he was staring at Hermione in a very unbecoming way, and she blushed. "Honestly, Ronald. Ginny asked you a question."

Ron shook his head and stuttered to find words, blushing as well. "Ridiculous." Hermione said, giving him a smile.

All of them shared another laugh, this time at Ron's expense. He was blushing as red as his hair, but laughed at his own foolishness.

"I was only going to say, that the consequence of Sirius avoiding meals with us and not partaking in the holiday with us, can do him no harm. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind, and this time of year can't bring back good memories for him. Despite us trying to change that, he may reside in his dusty bedroom for every Christmas after this, trying to get away from his past. It's his choice. I'm not going to order him to dine with us, despite whose feelings he may hurt with his avoidance. I can't help but thinking better of him. And I know your dad feels the same. Otherwise he wouldn't go to the door and ask him to come down for the feast, or hold it here. I think your dad shook him today." Harry said, ending his little speech with a laugh.

They all laughed with him, thinking of Arthur being able to shake Sirius.

After their tea and dessert, they settled into the family room for some music. Molly had her favorite record playing and was singing the words to Arthur. The twins were snickering at their mother's antics, and Bill and Charlie were deep in discussion with Remus. Tonks sat with them, inviting Ginny and Hermione to sit with her and talk. They all sat, quietly talking and enjoying the music and the atmosphere. Sirius noted that while all this was going on, he was likely up in his room, already passed out under the influence of the firewhiskey. Combined with the things that the Spirit had shown him, his heart hurt to think he wasn't part of the picture.

They couldn't quietly listen to Molly's music for long, and in due time, a game of exploding snap was conjured from somewhere and the children all gathered around to play. It was an innocent game, one he himself had played with his friends many many years ago. There was some well devised cheating by the twins, quickly uncovered by Hermione, and much more laughter in the room when they were confronted with it. Hermione had never played the game, but had watched so many times, she turned out to be quite good. Despite that fact, whenever it was her turn, Ron was right beside her, showing her what to do, giving her hints, getting in her way. Until she pushed him away with another laugh. Arthur and Molly laughed and the twins teased him mercilessly.

Ginny opted out of the game early, and sat herself at the other end of the room, beside Tonks. She watched the rest of the game, half cheering Harry on, half listening to what Tonks and Remus were talking about. The game of exploding snap ended, and everyone slowly made their way to the other end of the room to play a game of 20 questions, something that even the adults could take part in. Sirius and the Spirit now stood behind Ginny's chair, and Sirius found himself calling out the answers in a loud voice that no one but he and the Specter could hear. He was sharp as a tack, and answered most of the questions by the third try.

The visage of Peter Pettigrew was amused to see his friend in such a manner and laughed aloud when he begged to stay at the gathering until the guests left. But, his face changing back to somber, shook his head slowly.

"But they're playing a new game now!" Sirius argued, "Just one more half hour! It's Yes and No, and I'm great at that game."

Harry sat in the questioning chair now, and looked about the room.

"Is it an animal?" Arthur asked.

"Yes." Harry replied, laughing.

"Does it have big teeth?" Ginny asked, giggling.

"Yes." Harry said.

"Is it a boar?" Molly asked.

"No." Harry replied.

"Does it eat plants?" Ron asked.

"Ehmm, yes." Harry said, laughing.

"Can it talk?" Asked Hermione, knowing already where this was leading.

"Yes." Harry said, laughing harder.

"It's SIRIUS!" Ron said, with a wave of laughter, and everyone joined in. To think of all the guesses they had made, and the answer was upstairs sleeping the entire time made them laugh even harder. Molly tried to shush them, as not to wake Sirius, and the laughter died down.

"He's caused much laughter here tonight, and I think we owe him a toast for throwing such a lovely party." Remus said, conjuring butterbeer for everyone. "To Sirius!" He said all in his good nature.

"To Sirius!" They all cried and drank down their butterbeer.

"A Merry Christmas to Sirius, wether he would take it or not. I wish it to him anyway." Arthur said, raising his glass again.

Sirius was feeling so much a part of the party, he wanted to make a toast in return, but the gentle rustle of the spirit beside him reminded him that he was only a shadow there. There was no time for him to say anything.

Again they were moving, and before the night had ended, Sirius had visited the homes of all his friends, seeing their happy goodnights and farewells. He saw happiness and good cheer wherever he went. Sirius basked in it, knowing that he had forgone this happiness for far too long in his life now.

Sirius was amazed that they had spent an entire night looking in on people, and figured in his head that they had spent more hours than there were in a day looking at things. Despite staying in his physical form, the spirit beside him was changing through the entire night, aging before his very eyes. As they left the last of the houses, Sirius questioned the gap in their ages that had been growing all night.

"Is a Spirit's life so short?" He asked.

"My life in this world is very short." He replied. "It ends tonight."

"Tonight!" Yelled Sirius.

"Tonight at midnight. I feel the hour approaching." Peter said, turning his visibly aging gaze to Sirius.

The bells in the clock tower not far from Grimmauld Place were chiming 11:45, and Sirius listened to them with growing fondness for his friend. He looked at him from head to foot again, his gaze stopping at the end of the robes he was wearing.

"Spirit, what is that under the hem of your robes? It looks like a claw. Where your foot should be." Sirius said, leaning closer to get a better look.

"It might be a claw, there is flesh upon it." Peter said, looking down at the offending limb. "Look closer."

From the end of his robe, he brought forth two children. But Sirius saw that they were not children at all, but manifestations.

"Look here Sirius Black. Look closer." Peter said in a commanding tone.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to flee the man before him, the horrid children calling him closer with gaunt eyes and meager physiques. They were emaciated children, lacking the blubber that most small children have, instead their bones protruded at odd angles and their crying voices tore at his mind like a sword. They horrified him, and he knew that these two were darker than any Dark Lord, sicker and more mutilated than the darkest of human souls.

Sirius backed away, his mind reeling in the manner that they were presented to him, after a night of such merriment, to have this brought before him? What meaning did they have?

"Spirit, are they yours?" He asked, repulsed and wishing them to just go away.

"They are man's. And Wizard's. And they cling to me pleading on behalf of their fathers, well all harbor them. The one is Ignorance, and the other, Want. Beware them both, and all of their influence. Beware most Ignorance, for on his brow I see the word Doom. Scratched in red and festering, looking for a carrier for it's will. Deny it! Erase the impending doom. Sirius Black!" The Spirit all but shouted at him.

"Have they no refuge, somewhere else they could go?" Sirius said, still backing away from the hideous beasts eyeing him hungrily.

"Are there no prisons?" The spirit asked.

The bell tower struck twelve.

Sirius looked around for the Spirit, but it was gone, taking the two beasts with it, but their image haunted his mind as though they had never left. He looked up at the sound of rustling near the ceiling, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he remembered Regulus's promise of what was to come tonight. He saw his dead brother descend from the ceiling, creeping along the wall beside him, a black cloak billowing midnight behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

The phantom continued to creep along the wall, conjuring next to Sirius in a cloud of black acrid smoke. Sirius, stuck with s sense of reverence, fell to his knee and put his head down. There was something wholly terrifying about this image, and he felt it more clearly than he had the last of the spirits.

The spirit itself was shrouded in black robes, thick and velvety, but tapering off to tatters at the end of the vestment. They moved in a surreal way, and it almost brought to Sirius's mind the cloak of so many dementors hovering in a cold wind. Nothing was visible of the creature, save for one pale hand with long fingers. If not for this small detail, it would have been hard to discern the creature from the now oppressive night.

The creature was taller than him, and stood proudly next to him, rising a head above him, but not looking down at him. The feeling that dropped into Sirius's gut as he looked at the being was one of unhealthy dread and brought to mind the things that most scared him in the dark nightmares he had so often. The spirit said nothing, gave no sign of his impact upon the man.

"Are you the Spirit of Christmas Future?" Sirius asked in an impotent whisper.

The spirit said nothing, but pointed forward with his spindle-like finger.

"You're going to show me the things that are going to come to pass?" Sirius asked, "That is your purpose?"

The hood of the black garment was sucked in, as though the spirit was inclining his head, or taking a deep breath of the chilled air. He gave no other sign, but Sirius took it for an affirmation.

Despite the fact that he had spent the better part of the night, and what seemed like much longer in the company of ghostly apparitions, Sirius's legs shook as he got to his feet. He started to follow the now moving specter, but his feet didn't seem to want to cooperate, and he almost fell. The spirit stopped for a moment, the cloaked head turning, as though giving him a moment to regain his composure before they continued.

Sirius was even more terrified by this. Now he knew that looking back at him were two ghostly pinpricks of eyes, watching him as he regained his balance, and although he couldn't feel them, they left a cold trail on his skin. He fought the urge to rub his arms for warmth, and gathered himself as best he could. Only the hand was visible. With it's pale stretched fingers.

"Ghost of the Future!" Sirius said, "I fear you more than any other that has visited me this night, but I know your purpose is to do me good. I hope to change, and live as another man, and learn from this experience. I'm thankful to you for leading me through this journey. Can you speak to me?" He asked.

There was no reply, only the silhouette of the hand, pointing them onwards.

"Lead on! The night is coming to a close, and I find my time more precious than before! Lead on!" Sirius said, gathering his courage at last.

The phantom again said nothing, but started away. Sirius followed a pace behind, and it seemed that the tattered cloak seemed enchanted to carry him along as they moved.

There was no sense of traveling with this specter. As he had passed leagues of oceans on his last trip, there was nothing here. A city seemed to sprout before them like a garden, surrounding them, growing before their very eyes. It was another place that Sirius was familiar with, and as they stalked the rows of vendors and merchants, he realized that he had seen this town in passing many times, but had never paid any notice to these sights he saw before him now.

He stopped as the hand again emerged from the cloak, and he moved closer to the crowd of men that it was pointing to. He recognized a few of them, and at least one of them was from the Order of the Phoenix. He listened closer to what it was they were saying, knowing that this was part of the lesson the spirit was to show him.

"No, I don't know all of the details, I only know that he's dead." Said a fat man with a red nose and abundance of chins.

"When did he die?" Another asked from the crowd.

"Last night, I've heard." The fat man replied.

"Why, what happened to him?" Another inquired. "Confidence like his, I assumed he'd never die."

"Merlin knows." A woman agreed, fluffing her hair back.

"What has he done with his money?" One asked, this time in a hushed whisper. He looked around to make sure that none passing were listening to the conversation.

"I haven't heard." Said the fat man, rejoining the talk. "Left it to the Order, or his Godson. I know for a fact that the goblins haven't registered an advance in my account." He said, making light on the situation.

A light titter of laughter rose from the group.

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral." One concluded. "I heard word that there was no body. Being the state he was in when he died, do you know of anyone that would even attend? Suppose we got a group together and volunteered a little service for the man?"

"I wouldn't mind going if a meal was provided. It would give a nice cover to it, lest people find out what it was really for." The man said.

The crowd nodded.

"Well, I would feign to be the most disinterested." The fat man said at last. "I never wear the black gloves, and never could bring myself to such an occasion. The end is always the same. I feel for the man, I always have, we spoke on many occasions." Moody looked all around with his revolving eye, making sure that there were no eavesdroppers.

His eye fixed on something behind him and he uttered a gruff departure. The crowd about him meandered away, going about their business as though the conversation had not just happened.

Sirius knew the man's reasons, but looked to the spirit for an explanation.

None followed, but the spirit walked again, and Sirius followed. The hand was outstretched again, and Sirius watched as a whole new set of buildings emerged. Soot covered and worn, these buildings were older and darker. Sirius followed closely, watching the advance of the white hand.

Here it stilled and pointed upon a man and a woman, huddled close to the cornerstone of a building, cloaks hiding their faces. Sirius guessed that perhaps his answer lie here, and he made closer to the group listening for any clues.

He knew the man well, he was a man of business, and outstanding in the community. He was also a Death Eater, and renowned for his use of the Imperius Curse. The woman he saw with him made his blood boil. Dear Bellatrix.

"How are you?" Said the man to the woman.

"How are you?" She countered with a sneer in her voice.

"Well." He replied with the same bitterness in his voice. "I only barely managed to get away. The dog's been done in then?" He asked, getting right to the point.

"I did it myself." She replied, a strange proud glint in her hooded eyes. "Cold isn't it?" She asked, as though this conversation was quite normal.

"Seasonable for Christmastime. I've always liked the cold." He said, giving her a grin.

"Indeed. So cold it aches the bones." She said and with a nod dissapparated.

At first Sirius couldn't grasp what it was about such conversations that the spirit would find meaning in. So trivial. Someone had passed, that was sure, and he thought about the long line of people he had known since his adult life that had died. But these were visions of the future if he was correct in assuming, and he tried to think of those he knew that were in danger. That Bellatrix would kill. That was a list in and of itself, the woman would kill a man taking too long at the loo, even as it were none of her concern. But someone that affected both the Order members and the Death Eaters? He wracked his brain, thinking very hard.

The spirit was to show him things that would benefit himself, and by this study of himself, he would gain a deeper meaning of what it was he had to change about himself. A riddle such as this would be easy to solve, had he caught a glimpse of himself, and shadowed himself. He would in no time see what he was meant to see. But that was the crux of the problem, here there was no visage of himself to observe. He was nowhere to be found in these visions. What was the spirit showing him this for, if he was not there to see and judge his own reaction?

He looked all around for some shape of himself in the passing crowds, but there was none. He was simply not here. He assumed that he was seated in his room at Grimmauld place, and being as it were, he could not come out to travel the streets openly. But even he couldn't be penned in for long, and would often run down the streets as a dog, picking what information he could from the mouths of passing wizards. But there was no dog here either. He was utterly stumped as to what it was he was supposed to be looking for.

Silent and brooding, the spirit stood beside him, pale hand still pointing. It looked down at him, and the sensation of those eerie eyes looking at him pulled him from his thoughts. He had been deep in them, searching fro a reason he was absent. But the thought of those pale eyes looking at him made him shiver and remember that he was here to see whatever the spirit had to show him.

They left the busting thoroughfare and as they walked, buildings again started to sprout around them. They entered an obscure part of town that Sirius knew he had never been to before. There weren't as many people here, and the ones that were on the road, made their way quickly to their destinations. Sirius knew that this was a place of crime and misery, and not even Ministry officials could make their way into this section without trouble.

Far back on the street was a small squat shop, complete with dusty grime covered windows, and an obscure sign on the door with nothing but a snake. It was ambiguous, he could not tell what the nature of the shop was, or who the proprietor of it did for a living. Scattered about were iron cages, rags, oils, half finished potions, dismantled limbs of things he would rather not think about. The smell of the place came to him even though he was not in the place directly. Moldy stale death.

There was a squat fireplace at the end of the room, amid the piles of festering breeding creatures, but a man sat there, seemingly oblivious to it all. He was a sallow man, his face not one of a normal man. His fingers were steeped and he observed the low fire that burned with a furrow in his hairless brow.

Sirius and the spirit came to rest next to this man, watching him as he sat comfortably amid the squalor. He was nonplused about it, seemed not to pay attention to the scurrying of small beings under the cover of filth that lined the floor. He was waiting for something apparently.

Two women opened the shop door, laden with bundles, and a man followed in behind them, also carrying a large package. They made their way to the back of the shop and stopped before the seated man, carefully dropping their parcels to the floor.

"Let the Dark Lord's most faithful servant go first!" The first woman said, pulling her cloak back to reveal a head of light blonde hair. "Let the murderer go second, and the thief go third." She gave a wry smile to the other two. "It was fancy meeting you two at the same place."


	11. Chapter 11

Voldemort gave an unhuman grin at the trio before him. "You all came so fast. You knew where to find me. After all this time." He nearly whispered. "You are not strangers to this place. Stay, let me shut the door, close the curtains. There's not a rustier bit of metal in this room than the very door hinges, and not a bone older than my own scattered on these floors. We're all suited to our callings, all well matched. Come into the parlor." Voldemort beckoned them with his bony finger.

The 'parlor' was a separate room, hidden behind tattered curtains, but more private than the front sitting room of the shop. The four made their way into the room and waited for an order to be seated.

The first woman who spoke didn't wait for a word to sit down, she plopped her bag onto the floor in front of her stool and sat down, hiking her robes up a little higher for a better view. The other three ignored her. The other woman spoke from her stance by the door.

"What odds. What odds that we all should meet here." She said looking at the other two with a suspicious look. "Well, we all had a right to be there I suppose."

"That's true, Cissy. We did have a right to be there. It should be rightfully ours now." Bellatrix said.

"Don't just stand there and try to pick holes in my plan. I ordered you all there. It was my plan." Voldemort said. "Nothing more."

"Indeed! I'm the Dark Lord's most faithful servant." Bellatrix said with a smug grin, looking at the other companions' smaller bundles. Voldemort gave her a condescending sneer.

"It would have been helpful to know what it was we were looking for." Mundungus Fletcher said. He was met with Voldemort's wand aimed at him.

"That is my concern and mine alone." He said, giving the man a reproachful look.

"Indeed." said Mundungus, laughing nervously. It was a high pitched and hollow laugh.

"If he wanted to keep these things after he was dead, he should have been more natural in his lifetime. Imagine, a Black being taken into Gryffindor. A Black turning away at the Dark Mark. A Black! Beeseching the name of our noble family!" Bellatrix said with venom in her voice. "Maybe if he had changed things he would have met a better end."

"Very true, dear." Narcissa said, nodding her head in agreement. "It's a fair judgement on him."

"I wish it was a heavier judgement." Bellatrix replied. "And it should have been. I would have made him pay more, had I been able to lay my hands on any part of him. Open that bundle, My Lord, and let me know the value of it. I'm not afraid to be the first. I'm not afraid for them to see it, I'm helping myself here. Since he couldn't raise a finger to help me."

But Mundungus was faster, smelling the prospect of galleons, he had his sack open and was already flaunting the things he had retrieved from Grimmauld Place. There was not much, but the things it contained were chosen with a thief's careful eye. The Black seals, a jewelry box, and a rusted but ornate locket. There were a few goblets contained in the satchel, and a few pieces of cutlery. As he laid them out, Voldemort examined them, stopping for a moment at the locket, but his face showing no change. He waved his wand in the air and a running tally of the worth of the items hung shimmering in the air. He had much knowledge if the value of these things after working at Borgin and Burkes for so long. He would make sure that the three before him got their payment for bringing these items to him.

"That is your account. Not a galleon more." Voldemort hissed. "Who's next?" He then asked.

Narcissa quickly stepped in front of Bellatrix who was fumbling with the knot on her bundle and opened her bag. There was nothing there that made Voldemort pause, he looked almost disappointed, but waved his wand and a similar till began to mark itself in the air.

There were sheets and towels and dress robes. Boots and a few nicknacks from the house of Black fell out of the bundle and the Dark Lord quickly gathered them, making a tally again in the air for all to see. "I always did give the ladies a little more than needed" He said with a grim smile. Thoughts of past customers flashed in his head.

"And now look at mine, My Lord." The last woman said. Bellatrix placed her parcel at his feet, standing back proudly.

He pulled the bundle apart, unrolling a heavy drapery. "Bed sheets?" He asked.

Bellatrix gave a feral laugh. "Bed sheets? I suppose you could say that. My Lord, it is the veil."

Voldemort's eyes grew wide as he looked at the cloth before him. Mundungus was quick to speak. "You don't mean that you took it down with him laying under it and all?" He said, an unknown emotion in his voice.

"Yes I do." Bellatrix replied in a proud voice. "Why not?"

"You are by far, the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, Bellatrix." Voldemort said, not looking at any of them, but holding the locket in one hand, and running his hand along the drapery with the other.

"I wouldn't hold back from taking a thing for you, My Lord." Bellatrix smiled, grotesque on her face. "Are you going to put the oil in it now?" She asked, her eyes gleaming.

"You're going to put oil on it?" Mundungus asked, his voice oddly constricted.

"What else did you think we were going to do with it?" Bellatrix asked, cackling. "He may be cold, wherever he is."

"Is this veil dangerous to any of us? I mean, is torching it the right thing to do?" Mundungus asked, desperation in his voice. "I mean, what if we used it against them?"

"Who would be afraid of that? What are we going to do? Run after them with a curtain?" Narcissa sneered. "Besides, the curtain is useless without the gate that it guards, much as the gate is impotent without it. Destroying it is the only way we can assure that he's gone and stays that way."

Voldemort nodded. "Look at it, so perfect a thing, not a hole in it at all. Tattered, but well cared for in its own right." He had become quiet during this exchange, thoughtful. The prophecy weighed heavily on his mind, and he needed to end this right now. "It would be a waste to leave it in the Ministry."

The others nodded. "It is a dead man's cloak. Taken seemingly from his own back as he slips farther away." Voldemort went on.

"What do you mean wasted?" Mundungus broke in, looking at the veil. "It was fine where it was, surely the Ministry was keeping proper guard over it."

Bellatrix hissed, and Narcissa sneered. Voldemort looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. "Mundungus. Do you have qualms over my choices?" He asked, a threatening sneer in his voice.

"With this action, dear Sirius will be cremated in this cloak. It will be his shroud." Voldemort said to himself more than to the others in the room.

Bellatrix went on as if she didn't hear him, puffing herself up to look better for her Lord. "You think it was so well kept there, when I was able to walk in and take the thing with no question of my nature?" She said, "I alone was able to retrieve it."

Sirius listened to this dialogue in horror. They sat around, whit his belongings strewn around them, talking about him as though he were dead. A feeling started to arise in his stomach, one that made him queasy, nauseated to know that they were marketing his things, in the wake of his death. And if what they said was true, burning that cloth would seal his grave, and his end would be imminent.

Bellatrix laughed with glee as Voldemort distributed his praise. It was scarce that they were ever rewarded for the things they did, and exaltation was rare. As Voldemort vanished the tally signs in the air, he assured them that their payment was finalized and they were not leaving empty handed. "Sirius so pushed everyone away while he was alive, it's due time that we his family may profit from his death!" Bellatrix cackled.

"Spirit! I see that this unhappy life is my own! Take me home now, I have learned my lesson!" Sirius cried, shaking from head to toe. "Merlin's Beard! What is this?!" He asked.

The scene before him changed again, and he was no longer in any structure he had ever laid eyes on. It was a cold dark chamber, the smell of camphor think in the air, robbing his lungs of the air he was gasping for. It was chilled, but not with cold. Another scent that his defined sense of smell could register as only one thing. Death.

There was a dias in the center of the room, and the Spirit guided him to it. His legs right up to the very core of his body protested, but there was no deterring the Spirit from it's mission. A low whine began to form in the back of Sirius's throat, and he tried again, futilely to back away from the arch that made him tremble so.

Sirius had never seen this room before, but the familiarity of this room made him want to see every part of it. To know this room would unlock one of the mysteries that he had just been presented with, that he was certain of.

A pale light, shining on the dias in the center of the room gave him no answers, but the Spirit led him closer. Closer to the smell of camphor and closer to the smell of early death. He walked side by side with the Spirit, no longer fighting, but with the urge to know as much as he could about the place before him.

And they walked the steps to the tattered veil. And Sirius knew then why the drapery before shown to him was so important. Before he could utter a word of protest, a hand grabbed his own, and they were passing it.


	12. Chapter 12

The room that awaited them beyond the veil was dark, Sirius could see not much more than shadows, velvety and cold at the same time. There was a ledge of rock in the center of the room, and the spirit led him forward to gaze at it. Sirius could smell the thing lying on the stone before he could glimpse it. Coppery and placid, it rested, unmoving. There were tattered robes covering most of it, and he didn't dare look at the face of it, for fear of whom he would see.

Sirius diverted his attention to other areas of the dark room, wanting to know where he was. A pale light seemed to illuminate only the center of the room, making the body on the stone the only focal point of the room. He couldn't help his wandering eyes, but was helpless to see anything else.

Sirius glanced at the phantom next to him. It was unmoving, hardly perceptible at all in the shadows of the room. A hand was stretched and pointing to the body, and Sirius knew that this was the culmination of their travels. He was meant to look at this thing and understand. The robes that the corpse was shrouded in seemed to call to Sirius, begging him to look, but he was helpless to move them, anymore than he could dismiss the specter beside him.

_Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion. But of the loved, revered, and honored head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike. And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal! *_

Something spoke in Sirius's head, a voice unlike any other he had heard, and he trembled at the sound. It was no of the specter nor the body on the table, but seemed to stem from the depths of his very mind, and he reeled for a moment, collecting himself from the silent auditory assault. Sirius wondered what the man before him would utter if he was brought back to being, and he trembled again as an onslaught of righteous pain wracked him.

The body lay, in this cold dark chamber, no man woman or child to be found, no words of loss, no laments sung for him. The man had died, alone in all senses of the word. The hand of the phantom still pointed, now directed at the shrouded head, and Sirius shook his own. The movement startled the rats in the shadows and they were the only sound that could be heard.

"Spirit. This is a dreadful place. If we leave now, I will remember its lesson, I will not forget it." Sirius stammered, trying to ignore the hand that sought him to remove the robe.

Still the ghost pointed.

"I understand you, and I would move it if I could, but I can't. There's just somethings a man can't do, and this is one of them. I can't face whatever is under there, I lack the strength." Sirius said, pleading with his guide.

Still the ghost pointed.

"If there is any person in this town who laments the passing of this man, please show them to me, for I fear I cannot go on. Someone must know this man, someone must feel for him. Show me that person, Spirit, please." Sirius continued to beg.

The phantom seemed to consider for a moment, and then in one graceful movement, he spread his cloak out, bringing to Sirius's mind a bat in graceful flight, unnatural. The scene changed before them, and Sirius was grateful to be away from the body laid on the rock.

It was Grimmauld Place, and he blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sunlight that was streaming in the kitchen window. It was recent by the looks of things, and Molly was seated at the table, cutting vegetables the muggle way for dinner.

Ginny was seated with her, not helping, but keeping her company. Molly seemed nervous, and the sounds from the outside made her jump.

There was a crack outside the door, and she jumped from her seat. Arthur opened the door and quickly shut it. Molly ushered Ginny from the kitchen and sent her up to her room. She shut the kitchen door and waved her wand at it and the surrounding walls a few times. This was a discussion that none of the children needed to hear.

Arthur's face was pinched and worn, as though the day was long even thought it was only early afternoon. He plopped into the chair nearest him and rubbed his eyes. Molly conjured some tea and placed a cup before him. There was no work at the Ministry today, but the Order had met.

Molly waited a while, let him finish his tea before she tentatively asked about what they talked about. Arthur took a deep breath and tried to piece together the events of the day.

"Is it good, or bad?" She asked, trying to help him along.

"Bad." He answered. It was rare that he brought home bad news to his wife, she knew that well.

"The Order is ruined?" She asked, hoping that the casualties of the last few days had not broken their spirits.

"No, there is hope yet, Molly. Dumbledore wouldn't continue if there was no hope." He said.

"If Sirius consents, there is." Molly said. "Nothing is as uncertain if that happens."

"He's past consenting. He's dead. For good. Dumbledore couldn't do anything for him, the veil was gone, there was nothing left to do for him."

Molly was overcome with relief for a moment, never being find of the gruff man that had placed them in reckless danger on more than one occasion, and she berated herself the next moment for thinking such a horrible thing. There was nothing more she would like to do than not have to face this right now. Sirius was gone, another of the Order's founders lost to the cause, and for what?! Nothing.

"Aberforth showed today. He said he came across Bellatrix LeStrange, cloaked and sneaking down the street outside of his tavern. He stopped her, fool that he is, and he said she was drunk and babbling. Something about being the Dark Lord's most faithful. She disapparated before he could contact the Ministry, but she told him that she burned the veil. She seemed so proud of it." Arthur's voice seemed weak. "When Aberforth said it, Dumbledore didn't break down, but he had tears in his eyes. I think we all realized then that he was gone for good."

"Who will Headquarters go to then?" Molly asked, suddenly looking around the room.

"No one knows. There's a test Dumbledore needs Harry to complete, and it should figure out who the house belongs to." He caught the worried look she threw at him. "Dumbledore says it's safe to be here. We're fine here for now."

There was an uneasy peace in the house, and Arthur and Molly seemed to come out of their anxiety slightly as the day passed. Preparations were all being handled by Dumbledore, and they just needed to stay put and keep watch of the house. There was nothing here that they needed, and aside from slight shock of the passing, they went about their normal business.

"Please show me some tenderness connected with death. Or forever the image of that dark chamber will haunt me." Sirius pleaded with the Spirit.

With that, they left the small room and the phantom guided him down familiar streets and to a small house that he recognized immediately. Sirius looked around the streets for himself, sure that there had been some mistake, the sinking feeling he had started to feel was certainly wrong.

They crossed the threshold of Remus Lupin's small house, the one that his mother and father raised him in, the one that he now inhabited alone.

It was silent as a tomb in the house, and they spied Remus seated before the fire, Tonks at his side, neither of them saying a word as they both weighed heavy thoughts in their minds.

Tonks raised a book from the end table and dusted off the cover. She flipped open the pages and came to a well worn section.

"And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them." Her small voice wavered.

Sirius had heard these words before and his ears perked up a bit, trying to remember them. He waited for Tonks to say more, but there was nothing. He wondered why she had only read than small line, and looked back to the fire.

Remus listened as well, and as she stopped, he raised a hand to his face.

"The fire hurts my eyes." He said simply.

Tonks patted his arm, which he jerked away from her. He didn't seem to notice that he had, and she crossed her hands in her lap, hurt.

"I wonder where he is, if he can come back." She said, rather than asked. "Why was it his time? And not mine? Or anyone else?"

Remus sighed and put his head back. "It was past his time." He said. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

They both became quiet again. Tonks spoke up in a quiet voice.

"It seems like just yesterday he and I played quiddich in the yard. And ran through the streets. Now..." She faltered.

"Me too." Remus said. "And James, and Lily, and all the others that aren't here today, except in my thoughts.

"I miss him. I didn't know him as well as you, but I miss him." Tonks said.

There was a knock at the door, and Remus crossed the room to open it. Dumbledore walked inside and gave them both a sad look. Tonks had never seen the man in this state, but Remus had. Without a word, they crossed to each other and hugged. Two wizards sharing their grief for what seemed like a thousand times too many.

"Don't mind it, Albus, don't be grieved." Remus said. The display was shocking to Tonks, who was new to seeing Dumbledore in this state.

Albus seemed to take a deep breath and turned to Tonks. He embraced her as well, and seemed more pleasant now that he had spent his tears. They visited and went over any arrangements that had to be made. Harry was too young to deal with any of it, and Remus was like a brother to Sirius.

The will would be read on Sunday. They wanted to finish it as soon as possible. Remus understood. He nodded when he was supposed to, and signed the conjured papers that were presented to him.

"There is a small memorial erected. As you know, there is nothing to place in the ground, but there will be a place to mourn him nonetheless. In Godric's Hollow. Next to Lily and James, a marble stature, surrounded by green, rained on by leaves. I wish you would come to see it, I know it would help you, Remus." Dumbledore said.

Remus's mouth would not function. There was nothing he could say to the old man before him. How could he tell them that he was not only mourning the deaths immortalized there, but the loss of himself? The loss of a child that had died and died and died but came no closer to being dead, no matter how hard he tried. Remus could think of no words that could make sense of the thoughts in his head, the thoughts that so circled around death so much that it became an obsession. He stayed silent and only nodded, Tonks giving her false reassurance that they would go, they would see it. Tonks would take him to where his body would lie. She would take him there she said.

Remus listened nodding where he should, saying goodbye where he should, giving the reassurance that everyone needed, but not feeling it yet. Tonks left soon, and he retreated to his room. Back against the door, Sirius was before him as the face of his longtime friend crumbled. Fell apart. Shattered. Sirius fought the urge to scream as the waves of raw greif finally washed over him, and he shuddered as the man before him passed through him and smashed the mirror that reflected only one of them now. There was nothing to stop the unbridled grief as it passed through the room like a live current, and the Spirit silently watched, his hand pointing to the devastation that Sirius had begged to bear witness to.

* means I took that passage directly from the text by Dicken's. I love that quote, and just couldn't change it.


	13. Chapter 13

Sirius turned his head away from the crumpled man on the floor and sought the Spirit that seemed to have abandoned him through the ordeal. He caught him in his sight and said nothing, simply pleaded with his eyes for a change. This was too much for him to deal with. He needed to get out of this room.

As if the Spirit sensed the change in him, he raised his arms again and pulled the cloak around them. As before, the scenes passed them without being seen, and they traveled through what seemed like a heavy mist. Before long they were at their destination. Sirius looked at the scene before him and shuddered.

Severus Snape paced the floor of a small room, lined with books and smelling of musk. There was movement in the shadows, and he smelled the acrid scent of rodents scurrying in the shadows near the floor. He looked around at the room and realized that all the time he had known Snape, he had really known so little about him. He never realized that he must have had someplace to go other than Hogwarts, just as the rest of them had. Snape never ranked high enough in his mind to worry about those small details. He doubted that in life he would ever come to this place.

There was a little table in the corner of the room, and single candle on the tabletop lit the room in a dull ambiance. Sirius moved closer as the man took his seat at the end of the table. There was a meager meal and a stack of papers on it, and Severus started on the papers first. Sirius moved closer.

Severus pulled a small binder out of the stack and opened it. The Spirit waved his hand, and it seemed at though there was a microphone attached to the man's quill, it sent Severus's normally cold voice throughout the room. It seemed that it picked up from a previous journal entry.

Today, the will was read and the deeds transferred. Potter lays claim to all, and for that I am grateful. I mean to understand why I stand and watch so many valiant deaths, and why death does not come to me. Sirius Black is no more, but will surely be remembered by all of those people for his deeds to benefit the wizarding world. If I were to die right now, who knows what people would say of me. My die has been cast, I know where I stand, but it is the rest of the world that does not.

Sirius Black will be remembered by me, all of the good that he did, but I fear that I cannot forget all of the wrongs he has committed against me either.

The man seemed to stop for a moment, thinking, and then he closed the binder and set it to the side. He looked about the room and vanished the binder. Sirius couldn't help but wonder what good Severus saw in him. He thought the man saw nothing but what he wanted to see, the things that fit his own image of Sirius, one that he had cultivated since their early days at school. One that he had nurtured since the day they almost fed him to Remus in the Shrieking Shack. Was Severus so objective that he could look past that and see the things that Sirius had never showed him?

He shook his head and watched as he started to eat but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming here to visit Severus? Sirius waited for the cautious man to peek out the window before opening the door. A small hooded figure walked in and waited fro him to tell her to be seated. Knowing Severus's manners, she would be standing there for a while, but he was thrown off when Severus offered her the most comfortable looking chair in the room. She sat and pulled her hood down. Sirius gaped at the sight of Minerva McGonagall perched at the end of Severus's couch. Severus waved his wand and started a fire in the hearth. They scooted closer to it, sitting side by side and looking at the fire.

Sirius knew that they were going to talk, but the conversation that followed, he never expected to be had by the two people before him. Minerva started. He listened with rapt attention, slowly becoming horrified by what was being said.

"I checked on Harry. He seems a little down you know." She said, almost conversationally.

Severus said nothing. He had no discernable feelings for the boy that he cared to show his companion. He knew that she was closer to the boy than he would ever be.

"I said nothing to him, I doubt he knew I was there, but I wanted to reach out and tell him just how sorry I was for the loss of his godfather. But I couldn't." She said, putting her head down.

Severus stayed quiet for a time, just wondering to himself what would move this woman to come to his home and talk to him so candidly as she did right now.

"I hope he knew." Minerva said, and then seemed to stop herself abruptly.

"Knew what?" Severus asked, curiosity on what she was going to say filling him.

"That you were a good man." She said.

"Everyone in the Order claims to know that." Severus said, waving his hand as it dismissing the thought.

"Well, I hope they do. Especially in times like this." Minerva paused. "He was a good man too, Severus. I hope you know that as well." She said. She gave him a look that Sirius had never seen on her face. Sympathy perhaps? She was waiting for him to say something. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the look as alien on his as Minerva's face.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could say that I feel sympathy, I know he was good. But you know what he did. I can't help but still feel angry." He stopped as she moved to say something, and he spoke over her. "I know. They meant no serious harm. Gryffindors never seem to mean any real harm, do they? You saw what they did, Minerva. You walked me back to the castle. How do you expect me to ever be able to forgive that? I can say that he was a good man, I can offer my condolences, and know that they are heartfelt, but there is a part of me that cannot let go of it. If I were to stop and forget it, I would no longer be me." Severus said. Sirius had never heard the man say anything more than a few sentences at the time, and for him it was a speech.

Sirius had no idea that the prank that had gone so horribly wrong still affected the man as it did. The he would hold it over him even in death. Sirius shuddered and knew that he was going to have to try to make a difference to the man. No amount of actions or words could take away the fact that as a child he had tried to have the man killed, and he knew that there was no way the man was going to see that they were just children, children that made a foolish decision, but something had to be done. He had to try to fix something with the man.

He came out of his thoughts as the two were still talking.

"I'm sure you're both good souls." Minerva said, now reaching her hand across the sofa to pat Severus's hand. To Sirius's surprise, he did not pull away, but seemed to hang his head as though he were thinking of the situation, not at all pleased that it had turned out as it had.

"You would be surer of it." Severus said. "I think you have the better end of the deal than I. Speak to Potter. I know he'd rather hear from you than I."

"I understand." Minerva said.

"And the will. Potter should lay claim to all that was his. He or Remus, but I think Harry." Severus said, thinking aloud to himself now. The wheels visibly turning in his head.

Minerva stood. "I know, the plans have already been made. I'll be back to let you know what the details are." She paused. "Severus.."

"Be gone, Minerva, I have much to think about, and my meal is getting cold." Severus said with a chill that matched the food on his plate.

"Very well, but remember what we talked about Severus. Think about it. Don't let the things that happened so long ago between you keep you from seeing that he was a good man, and his sacrifice is just as much your's as mine or Harry's." She said.

Minerva said nothing more, but walked herself to the door and let herself out. Severus hadn't moved, but stood with his face to the fire, deep in thought. His brow furrowed, and he finally after many moments, turned to his seat and sat down, pushing the plate of food away and resting his head on his folded arms. A small whisper escaped, just loud enough fro Sirius to hear.

"I wish I could forget. I never will though."

Sirius looked to the specter to make sure he had heard what he thought he had, but there were no answers in the hallowed face of the Spirit. Sirius started to speak, choosing his words carefully.

"Specter," Sirius said. "I have a feeling that we have reached the end of our journey together tonight, I'm not sure what makes me think that, but now, I beg of you, tell me who the man was that we saw lying dead in the chamber." He asked, fevered in his speech. He knew, but to hear it from that faceless entity, he knew that it would change him as a man.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come pulled him as he did before through a stretch of time intangible. Through all of these visions he saw nothing of himself, and yet he wished to hear the answer from the spirit himself.

Before long, it seemed a matter of moments, they had stopped on the street of Grimmauld Place. Sirius begged the Spirit to stall there for a moment, hoping that its lack of answer meant that there was a shred of hope yet to be seen.

"This street," Said Sirius, "Through which we hurry now, is where I have worked, where I have lived. I see the house, let me stop and see what it is I have become." He said, motioning to the house.

The Spirit stopped, that ethereal hand pointing elsewhere.

"The house is yonder, why do you point away?" Sirius said, pointing to the house that he knew the Spirit could see.

The Spirit did not sway his hand. He was not pointing to the house, but something through that mist of space that was distant. Sirius shrugged away from him and walked up the lawn to the window. There was fresh paint on the house and a manicured lawn. Never had this amount of attention been placed on the front of the house. When he looked in the window he gasped. Nothing was the same in the house anymore. Things had been moved, there was nothing the resembled his mother's home, save for the painting that still stood sentry. It would never be removed, but for the fact that it was still there, otherwise he wouldn't have recognized the house.

Sirius walked back to where the Spirit was waiting, wondering where his things had gone, and who had moved his furniture. He resumed his walk beside the specter, waiting for a sign of where it was they were going. They seemed to pass many streets in minutes, and before he could think of a word to ask, and iron gate loomed before him. Sirius looked at it with dread growing in his heart.

Godric's Cemetery. He had not been here, there had been no time. He followed the specter now, trailing behind to admire the ancient trees, green grass and falling leaves. He looked at the stones he passed. Some he knew, others he didn't. There were two directly ahead that he knew to be his closet friends. A sob tried to well it's way up in his throat and he paused for a moment to lament the loss of lives that was so unnecessary. He trailed a hand over the cold granite and through the etched words that marked the passing of his friends. But this was not where the specter stopped.

Again that damned hand pointed, one stone amongst the others, not as large, not as showy, and bearing no body beneath it but a date of a genesis and of an exodus into death. He could not read the stone through the tears that he would not let fall.

"Tell me Spirit before I look on this stone, tell me. Is this a vison of what is meant to be, or of things that simply may come to pass?" His voice was think as he pressed. "Tell me now!"

Not a word escaped the specter as it stood, the rotted hand pointing to the stone.

"Men's actions lead them to a certain end, and if these actions are preserved, he will be fated to follow." Sirius said, his voice coming now fast and high pitched. "But if this course of actions is not followed, can a simple man as myself avoid this fate that is etched in this stone?" He now raised his voice finding a courage that he formerly lacked. "Say this is so Spirit! Say that this is the reason I am being shown these things! SAY IT!" Sirius now shouted, the fury of his anger almost tangible in the air.

The Spirit was as immoveable as ever.

Sirius crept towards it, trembling with the new sense of energy that now flowed through him, the crux of this journey now reached. Following that dead hand, he looked at the etch of stone, the tears he held spilling over the crest of his eye as a wave, giving him the ability to see what he would not before. His name in the stone. Here before him, "SIRIUS BLACK".

"I am the man that lay upon the stone!" Sirius said, the wave of his own fury mimicking that of his friend, it was powerful enough to bring him to his knees.

The Spirit brought his pointing hand from the stone to Sirius and back.

"Oh Spirit, oh no no!"

The finger still pointed.

"Spirit!" Sirius said, now clutching at the hem of its tattered robe. "Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I was to suffer this course. What point was to show me this if I am beyond all hope?" He asked.

The Spirit swayed, a tremble now wavered that immoveable hand.

"Good Spirit." Sirius said, his voice now low in his throat, almost tender. "You nature understands me. It pities me. Assure me, assure me that I may change these shadows that you have shown me. That I may reverse what fate has deemed to be."

The spirit swayed more visibly now, the cloak trembling in the stillness of the dry air.

"I will honor this spirit in my heart, and keep this feeling through all the season, I know that this is the course that I will take now. I will live with the Spirit of Past, Present, and Future within my heart. All three will strive within me. I will no longer push out the lessons that they have instilled in me." He paused. "Tell me I can sponge away the writing on this stone!" He said, his voice failing him as something inside him broke.

In his agony, he caught that spectral hand in his own and held it as a man clings to a plank in a tempest. The Spirit fought to free itself, but Sirius cling to him, bunching his fingers in the moldy cloth of the robe he was wearing. Stronger than Sirius, it gave one final thrust and shoved him back a few paces.

On his knees, Sirius clasped his hands together as though to beg a final prayer of deliverance to the Spirit before it departed. The hood the housed the head of the spirit seemed to shrink and as he watched, the rest of the robe followed suit. Before he could utter another word, the spirit was gone, replace instead with the shape of a spindly black bedpost that he was most familiar with.


	14. Chapter 14

Epilogue

Yes! The bedpost was his own! He was back in his room, clutching the thing, wanting to kiss it. If this was his own room, then this was his own time. His own time to do things. His own time to change the events laid before him. His own decisions to make from here on out.

"I will live in the Past, Present and Future!" Sirius shouted. "The Spirits of the Three will live in me! Oh Regulus, Merlin, and Christmas itself be praised for this!" Sirius shouted, falling out of his bed in his excitement and landing on his knees.

Sirius was so excited that it seemed a physical change had come over him. His face was no longer the gaunt on of a former prisoner, or angry as though the world owed him. His voice cracked with the happiness he was feeling, and as he shouted some more, it broke, a sob of joy escaping him.

"It will not take me." Sirius said, happiness ringing in his tone, "I will not fall prey to the veil that threatens to shroud me." He started laughing in his excitement, chuckling through his tears. "I am here! The shadows of things that would be, be dispelled! They will be, I know they will be!"

He got off the floor and flung off his sleeping clothes, throwing them into the air and laughing as they hit the floor. He rummaged through the closet, now back to its normal state and looked for a set of brilliant red robes. He hadn't worn them since before things started to go wrong, but now he wanted the extravagant clothes. He fixed his hair, the whole time his hands bumbling as though they were feeling the world for the first time. He laughed as he dropped things, threw things around, even danced in front of the full length mirror.

"I don't know what to do!" He shouted to himself, not caring if the whole house heard him. He was still laughing, ironic tears still falling from his eyes. "I feel as light as a feather! I am happy as an angel! I am merry as a school boy! I feel drunk! MERRY CHRISTMAS! Happy New Year world! Wotcher! Whoo!"

He had run into the sitting room of his bedroom and was quite winded from all of his hollering and dancing. He stood there for a moment, gasping for breath.

He looked at the spot his brother had come to him. The closet, the window. It was all there. All of it. And perfectly normal. "It's true. It all happened. I was there. I remember! Ha ha ha!!" He said to himself, laughing.

For a man that was so out of practice with the basic practice of laughing, it was a hearty bark of a laugh, infused with all of the emotions he had not let himself succumb to for so long. He didn't remember the last time he had let himself laugh as hard as he continued to, and he missed it. Missed all the opportunities he had wasted. He laughed harder, letting the sound bubble from inside him like a civ.

When he calmed himself enough to think, he said to himself, "I don't know what day it is. How long have I been among the Spirits? I don't know anything! I'm like a baby, this is all new to me! Nevermind, I don't care, I'd rather feel like this than like the dead walking I was before." He started whooping and hollering again, to anyone looking in, he must have seemed like a madman.

He hurried to the window, hearkened by the tolls of the nearby steeple. He listened to their clang and crash and smiled as the morning sun hit his face. It was a glorious feeling. There was a boy in his Sunday clothes coming up the road, and Sirius rushed down the stairs, flinging open the front door and standing in full sight in the street.

"Hey boy! What's the day?" He shouted as the boy neared.

"Eh?" Replied the boy, probably wondering about the mental state of the man who had emerged from nowhere and asked what day it was, on this of all days.

"What's today, my fine fellow?" He said, bowing to the boy. He was in a strange mood.

"Today?" The boy said, understanding that the crazy man really wanted an answer. "Well, it's Christmas!" He said.

"It's Christmas Day." Sirius said to himself. "The Spirits have done it all in one night. Well, I suppose they can do anything they want. They're not of this world. Hey! Fine fellow!" Sirius said, as the boy started inching away.

"Hey what?" The boy asked, cheekily.

"You know the butcher shop, but one street over?" He asked, an idea forming in his head.

"I should hope I do, my father owns it." He said, with more attitude than intended.

"Ah, an intelligent boy as it were!" Sirius said, giving another bow. "Do you know if your father has sold the prize turkey? Not the little one, mind you, the big one!?" He asked.

"The one that's as big as me?" The boy asked.

"What a pleasure to talk to you, you're like me when I was a boy! Yes, the big one, that one. Is it there?" Sirius asked, babbling, and not able to stop himself.

"It's still there. I think Pops has visions of a last minute buyer." He said, sensing a business opportunity.

"Is it!?" Sirius said, his eyes lighting up. "Go and buy it!"

"Man..." The boy started to protest. There was no way he was going to cart the bird down here if the man was not serious.

"No, no, I am serious!" Sirius said. "Fetch it, and bring your father with you. I'll instruct him as to where it goes. I'll give you a sickle if you're back in five minutes, and a galleon if you're back before then!" He said, showing the coins to the boy. His little eyes looked at the money as a snake watches a bird. He was gone just as fast as well.

"I'll send it to Arthur and Molly. No doubt that's where they're preparing for tonight. Molly hates cooking outside of her own kitchen. Never such a swindle had ever been attempted by Mundungus, they'll wonder who on Earth has sent it!" He laughed to himself, walking back into the house.

He pulled a parchment and a quill out and started writing in a shaky hand the name of the Burrow. He managed it and started out the door again to wait for the boy and his father. As he stood there, the Black Family crest on the knocker of the door caught his eye. It stood for everything that was him. He carried the Black name now, none other. He was the master of this house, no one else. Never before had he not felt as though he lived in his family's shadow, and he felt free now, lighter than he had in years. As he thought these things, the turkey arrived.

"Wotcher! Hallo!" He shouted, running to the man. "How are you? Merry Christmas!" He said, shaking the man's hand profusely.

His eyes fell on the turkey, and what a turkey it was! Larger than a middle school boy, it was enormous. The deli paper covering it was held together with more magic than tape, and threatened still to burst his seams.

"Why, it's going to be impossible to apparate with that!" He said, laughing. "How do you plan to do it?" He asked.

"Piece by piece!" The man laughed, catching Sirius's contagious glee.

Sirius laughed as he paid the man, laughed as he paid the boy (more than he promised), laughed as he paid the apparation fee. Laughed as everyone joined in his laughter. He laughed as he gave the boy and his father another final tip and laughed as he made his way into the house. He laughed as he fell into his chair and laughed even as he started to cry from all the emotions he was feeling.

When he had again regained himself, he walked to the mirror and started to shave. It was not an easy task, keeping his wand aimed at his face as his hands shook and trembled. It didn't help the fact that he had started dancing again. It took longer than usual, but he managed.

He went back to his room and finished dressing himself, taking care to make himself look most presentable. This was the finest day of his life as he saw it, and he took pains to look the part. He finally made his way into the street and saw no sign of the butcher. He apparated into town, thinking to stop and pick up a few things before he reached his destination. He saw people pouring out of their homes, abandoning their own to share their company at another. He walked among them with his hands clasped behind his back, greeting almost everyone he passed.

He had not gone far into the town when a large bald man caught his attention. Shacklebolt, as it were. He stopped and waited for the man to approach him, his apprehension of the Ministry now building. Kingsley stopped and looked at Sirius with almost amazement on his face.

"My dear sir!" Sirius said, rushing forward to meet the man, "I hope it's going well at the Ministry. Merry Christmas to you!"

Kingsley looked from Sirius, his eyes shifting to the sign that hung in the window of a nearby shop. "Wanted. Sirius Black." The picture of Sirius seeming to scream all his anger at the passerby.

"Black?" He whispered.

"Yes." Sirius said, "That is my name. I ask you not to say it so loud, or attract that much attention to it, as I am not myself today." He said, lowering his voice.

"Lord bless me!" Cried Kingsley, for he had not recognized the man before him before hearing his voice. There was a change over the man that made him seem an entirely different person. It was astounding that this was the same man as the one in the poster, and Kingsley had to take yet another look to make sure his eyes didn't deceive him. "Are you Sirius?" He asked.

Sirius laughed at the pun and clasped his hand on the man's shoulder. "The Ministry would probably give you galleons of bonus to have seen through this change that has come over me." Sirius said, still laughing. "I owe you for keeping me away from them for this long. I know it's been difficult."

Kingsley waved his hand as though it were no bother. "Don't worry about it, I thank you for saying it nonetheless. I've sent them to so many muggle retirement resorts that they're sure you're disguised as an old man. They'll never see this." Kingsley said, pointing from his head to his toes.

"Again, I am grateful. I want to have a dinner at the Headquarters. Please come." He said, extending the invitation to Kingsley. He meant to start celebrating his life and the lives of his friends while they were here; not lamenting them after they had gone. It was a new start to his life.

"I most certainly will!" Kingsley said, and he meant it.

"Thank you!" Sirius cried, laughing again, "I owe you a thousand thanks!" He said. They laughed together like old friends before they parted ways.

Sirius went on and passed chapels and temples. He walked through the streets, watching people as they passed. Never before had he taken such a walk and noticed the things that he had so sorely missed in his life. But instead of looking at them through a sea of regret, he appreciated them for what seemed like the first time. He talked to beggars, patted children on the head, looked in windows and marveled at all of the things that used to make him happy and now again held that power over him. He felt for the first time, alive. It was soon afternoon and he turned his way to his destination.

He passed his own house a dozen times before he could convince himself to make his way to the door. He knew that they would be here. All of them, under the assumption that he was still holed up in his room, spoiling the spirit that they were trying to bring to him. What a surprise they would have. Finally, he plucked up the courage and knocked on his own door.

An ugly face with pointed ears and a scowl on its pug nose peered around the door. When it saw who was there, he rolled his eyes and started on an endless muttering. He opened the door a bit farther and waited very impatiently for the man to walk through.

"Is your Master home?" Sirius asked.

"Master he asks. My mistress is dead, and now poor Kreatcher has to deal with stupid traitor son. Asking dense questions. My mistress would tell him a thing or two." He muttered and then louder for Sirius to hear, "Yes sir."

"Where is everyone?" He asked the house elf, laughing at the disgruntled look he was giving.

"In the dining room, Sir." Kreatcher said. Sirius ignored his muttering and walked to said room. He looked across and saw one of the people he was looking for.

He was at the far side of the room, and the great Black dining room table stretched between them. Molly had already taken pains to set the table, and she was a stickler for perfection when it came to feeding people. And on holidays she did everything the proper way, leaving no room for anything misplaced.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted.

Ginny, sitting in the corner reading and avoiding her mother's constant demands, dropped the book she was reading and gave a startled gasp, not even hearing the man walk into the room. If Sirius had remembered she would be sitting there, he wouldn't have been so loud.

"Sirius?" Harry asked. "What's gotten into you?"

"I've come to have dinner! And make amends for the way I've been acting recently." He said, lowering his head a little bit. "Will you let me sit with you?" He asked, looking up at his Godson.

Harry's face broke into a grin and he crossed the room to hug his Godfather. He almost crushed the man and both were laughing by the time they pulled apart. Soon after, everyone streamed into the dining room. Sirius's good cheer was infectious, and as Remus, Tonks, Fred, George, Arthur and all the rest filed in, they were already engaged in properly decorating the room. They waved their wands around and tried to see who could come up with the gaudiest decorations. Hermione won with a perfect transfiguration of Arthur into a red suit, hat and matching long white beard. Everyone had a good laugh and Arthur kept the garb until Molly walked into the room, trays following her and burst into laughter. She made to yell at Fred and George, but Hermione raised her hand and Molly couldn't get through her laughter to yell.

Sirius was awake early the next morning, dressed and sitting at the table with his morning tea. He had an appointment he had made the night before, and he waited for his visitor with his heart beating faster than usual. He was determined to catch his visitor running late, he was usually the one to keep this man waiting.

And he was right. The man was running late. Nine o' clock passed with not a knock at the door and Sirius smiled to himself. A quarter past and nothing. Eighteen minutes later and there was the sure knock at the door.

He had his cloak off before he made his way into the kitchen. He placed three small vials on the counter and started to shake them. "What do you mean coming in this late?" Sirius said, trying hard to sound like his normal scornful self. It was the next day and he still felt the same as he had the day before. There was no sign of this feeling fading, and if there ever was, he planned to fight it.

"I am sorry, Mr. Black to inconvenience you. I am indeed running late." Severus said, not looking at him.

"You are?" Sirius said, standing at the table, "Yes, I think you are. Look at me Severus." He said.

"It's only once a year, Sirius, and Remus's Wolfsbane potion has a few hours that it can last before he had to take it. I was 'making merry' or whatever it is you people do for the holiday." Severus said in a dry voice; still not looking at Sirius.

"Well, listen my friend," Sirius said. "I'm not going to stand for this for much longer. Therefore," He continued, crossing the room to stand in front of the man, "Therefore, I am offering you my apologies."

Severus stiffened for a moment, then reached in his robes and pulled out his wand. He thought he should hit him with a body binding curse and call for Dumbledore. Sirius had obviously reached a new height to his madness.

"A Merry Christmas, Severus. Merrier than any I have wished you ever before. And I am sorry for that." Sirius clasped his hand on the man's shoulder. Severus winced, expecting some sort of blow to come, but when he looked at the earnest face of the man before him, he saw only the genuineness of the gesture, and the truth in his eyes. He knew that administering veritiserum would yield the same results, but even so, he had to be sure. After all, this was the man who as a child hated him so much that he sought to see him dead. That was something that Severus could not skate over. He looked into Sirius's eyes and still holding his wand said, "Legimens!"

Severus gasped. There was so much floating in here, recent memories floating on the surface, not all fo which could be real. He picked through, finding at last that pattern that all human minds share in very different ways. Each different emotion sang a different tune to him and he listened to it all, seeing what he needed to see, no longer doubting that the words the man was saying were true.

He pulled away, sitting in the nearest chair. This was something that adversely changed the man that he had become. Something that was as deep rooted as childhood, always there was the imminent threat of attack, and here was a mind, previously the in the same mode of thought, suddenly cleared of it. In that place was a chasm, one that Severus dared not cross. It was something otherworldly, and that he dared not tamper with. Whatever it was, it was genuine.

Sirius was true to his word. Things changed in the house on Grimmauld place, no longer was it a tomb, but a place of purpose. Dealings with Sirius became pleasant, and everyone noticed the change in the man. No longer was he secluded, brooding. People came to the house to spend time in his company and the business of the Order changed drastically. Sirius was true to his word, in everything that he did, the spirits lived on in him, and he made all of his following days mean something.

Sirius never again met the Three, but he lived in their lessons for the rest of his days. He was now surrounded by people that he cared for, and who in return cared for him. He had made amends for his past where he was able, lived the present as a changed man, and kept his future from crossing into the wake of his late brother. Remus stayed with him through it, and as Christmas next neared, he reflected on the change in his friend, and the change he had made in the people around him. "Bless us, Every one!"

The End.


	15. Author's Note

Author's Note

If you made it this far, thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing). I hope you have a great holiday season, whatever you believe. Feel free to drop me a line with any mistakes or anything else that I majorly screwed up on.

Thanks again!


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